


Celestial

by Vizkopa



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels and Demons, Angst, Denial of Feelings, F/M, FallenAngel!Doflamingo, Maybe some smut later, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Slow To Update, doffy is stubborn af, slight law x reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vizkopa/pseuds/Vizkopa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>And he said to them, </i><i>"I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven."</i> - <b>Luke 10:18</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Fall from Grace

The sound of the bell signalling the end of the school week—and the beginning of the much anticipated weekend—rang through the corridors. You shouted to be heard over the clamour of your students rushing to be first out the door.

“Don’t forget, the Lyrid meteor shower will be at its peak tonight! Before dawn is the best time for viewing!”

You received a few looks of horror at the thought of getting up before dawn on a Saturday and you chuckled. Being a high school Physics teacher meant you received those looks on a regular basis, but you wouldn’t trade your job for the world.

The room was cleared within minutes, everyone eager for the weekend and you were no exception. You had planned your whole weekend around the meteor shower and damned if you were going to miss a second of it. So you sped through your preparations for the next week and hurried out the door, already calculating the best position in which to set up your telescope for optimal viewing pleasure.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry, [Name]-ya?”

Speaking of pleasure… The smooth voice stopped you in your tracks and you fought to control the blush rising in your cheeks. Trafalgar Law never failed to leave you flustered. He was relatively new to the school, assuming the position of Human Biology teacher after the previous one had retired. And you had wanted a lesson in ‘anatomy’ from him since the day he’d introduced himself with that sleek, velvet voice.

You turned to face him, smiling pleasantly. “Mr. Trafalgar! I could say the same to you. You’re heading out early.”

He smiled—more of a smirk, really. One that made you weak at the knees. “Please, I’ve told you to call me Law. And I was hoping to catch you on your way out, actually.”

“What can I help you with?”

“Are you free tonight?”

You hadn’t been expecting that. “Oh… Actually, I already made plans…”

“I should have guessed,” he chuckled, but you could see the disappointment in his eyes. “The way you were rushing just now, you could only have a date tonight, am I right?”

“You could say that,” you said with a laugh. “The Lyrid meteor shower peaks tonight. I’ll be observing the whole thing from home for my paper.”

He laughed and _god_ you could get used to that sound. “Of course, another time perhaps. In that case, I’ll remember to look to the sky tonight and think of you.” He winked and you felt your face flush red. “See you on Monday, [Name]-ya.”

With one last smile he said his goodbyes, leaving a tingling warmth where his arm had brushed yours as he passed. And you were left standing in the empty corridor a blushing mess. You hadn’t even been able to bring yourself to say goodbye, you were so afraid of tripping over your own tongue. You had almost invited him over to watch the shower with you, but it had been a long time since you’d had a guy over and, as much as you wanted it to happen, you weren’t sure that was the message you wanted to send.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. That man was a walking distraction and you couldn’t afford to fall all over him like a blushing school girl. You had a celestial event to catch.

On your way out, you dropped by the school library to return a stack of books you had borrowed. Robin, the school librarian and History teacher, and Nami the Geography teacher were chatting as they sorted through the returns to be placed back on the shelves.

You dropped your stack of books loudly on the table in front of them. “Trafalgar Law just asked me out.”

They both stopped talking abruptly and turned to you, Robin with a look of smug amusement on her face, while Nami looked like she had just won the lottery.

“And what did you say!?” she squealed.

You scrunched up your face at her. “I told him I was busy this weekend.”

Nami’s face fell. “[Naaaame], why would you do that? You’ve been looking all lovey-dovey at each other for weeks. This was your chance!”

“The Lyrid meteor showers peaks tonight and—”

“Oh my god, the meteor shower happens _every year_. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

“I’m sure I’ll have other chances,” you muttered, absently playing with the cover of a book. “He said he’d be thinking of me tonight.”

“Oh my,” Robin chuckled.

Nami rolled her eyes. “Would you rather him be thinking about you, or making love to you niiice and slow like you’ve been—”

You blushed furiously. “Woah, woah, woah! That’s not—”

Nami raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”

Your blush deepened. “An office romance would only be a distraction.”

“Good. ‘Cause you sure need one.”

“You work too much, [Name],” Robin agreed.

Nami grasped your shoulders, forcing you to look her in the eye. “You two are _meant to be_ , [Name], I just know it.” She let go and sighed. “Just promise me you’ll at least call him? Let him know you’re still interested. Hell, maybe you can watch your damn meteor shower together and make love under the stars—”

“OKAY!” you interrupted before Nami could go into too much detail about your non-existent sex life. “Nami, you know I don’t believe in all that destiny crap.” You caved under her disapproving look. “But I’ll call him tomorrow. Promise. Now, I gotta go.”

Robin waved you off as you hurried out of the library, Nami calling after you.

“I’ll hold you to that!”

You shook your head, knowing she was dead serious, and made a mental note to call Law the next day.

The drive home was uneventful and by the time you reached your house on the outskirts of town, the sun had already begun to set. You made yourself a quick dinner of leftovers, and put on a pot of coffee for the long night ahead.

The night was quiet as you set up your telescope in the highest window in the attic, a steaming cup of coffee close at hand. The window faced west, offering a spectacular view of the setting sun and allowing you to look out over your generous backyard and the forest beyond. The trees stretched away for miles, which is why you had chosen the attic as your viewing position. The rest of the town lay in the opposite direction, so the forest meant no light pollution to dampen the effects of the shower.

Unfortunately, this year the peak of the shower happened to coincide with the full moon, which would mean your viewing would be limited to before moonrise and a small window before dawn, but you weren’t about to let that dissuade you.

As you were lining the scope up with the stretch of clear sky above the forest, a streak of light crossed your vision—there and gone again in a moment. You pulled back and frowned. That was odd. You shouldn’t be able to even see any meteors for another few hours yet at least.

You stuck your head out of the window and looked up. To your surprise, a bright object was hurtling across the sky, far too close to be one of the smaller meteors you had been expecting. Most were so small that they burned up in the upper atmosphere before they could even reach the ground. But not this one. It blazed brighter and swept overhead, leaving behind it a streak of smoke against the darkening sky.

You weren’t sure, but at its current trajectory and the speed it was travelling…

_It’s going to crash in the forest!_

With a flash of light and a low rumble that shook the foundations of your house, it impacted and you were left stunned, staring out into the dark trees.

_What the hell was that?!_

Without a second though, you snatched up your coat as you raced out the back door and through the yard. You switched on the flashlight app on your phone and made your way under the cover of the trees. You shuddered as the shadow of the forest enveloped you. You had practically grown up in these woods and you knew its many trails and hidden tracks like the back of your hand, but you still held your father’s warning clear in your mind.

_”Never go into the woods alone after dark!”_

Once when you were younger, you had been playing in the woods and lost track of time. Before you knew it, the sun had started to set and in your panic to get home, you’d lost sight of the path. You recalled the way the shadows had lengthened in the rapidly fading light, making the trees appear to be closing in around you. For a few, terrifying moments, you though the forest would swallow you whole, until your father had heard your crying and come to the rescue.

You cast off the uneasiness that began to creep up now and forged on ahead, following the well beaten path into the heart of the woods. You could smell a faint aroma of smoke in the air and all you needed to do was follow your nose to its source. It wasn’t long before the trail you were following became overgrown and difficult to see by the light of your phone. The light bounced off the tree trunks, making everything appear oddly flat to your eyes, and messed with your depth perception.

You felt the seeds of a panic begin to take root in your mind, but pushed your doubts aside. You had a good sense of direction. You were certain you could make it back out again. Besides, from the smell of it, you had almost reached the site of impact.

Up ahead, you saw the yellow flickering of fire. The acrid smell of burning was now almost overwhelming in your nostrils. Smoke stung your eyes and you pulled a handkerchief out of your pocket to hold over your mouth and nose as you entered the clearing.

The first thing you noticed was the crater: the earth in the clearing was scorched black and smoking, and small spot fires burned where patches of grass had once been. You kicked dirt over them and stamped them out as you made your way through the clearing, halting the flames in their tracks before you had a wildfire on your hands.

The second thing you noticed were the feathers—some the length of your forearm and longer, blackened with soot and smouldering at the edges. Your first thought was that the meteor (or whatever it was) had hit a bird’s nest as it crashed through the canopy, but the feathers were far too large for any bird native to the area. Or any bird ever for that matter. You watched them smoulder in the dirt, curling in on themselves before disintegrating into ash.

The third thing you noticed was the object at the centre of the crater as you peered over the edge. It wasn’t deep, but it was wide, and at it’s very centre lay something half buried in the earth. You screwed your eyes shut and opened them again. It was a _man_. The largest man you had ever seen. You pinched yourself for you could only have been dreaming, but instead of waking up in your cosy bed at home, you were still there, the impossible right in front of you. You looked closer, peering through the smoke. He was definitely a man. Standing he must have been over ten feet tall.

And he was very much naked.

You turned away, eyes wide and face reddening. Never mind the fact you had just found a _human being_ in a crater in your backyard, but he was naked as the day he was born too. You took a deep breath, almost choking as you breathed a lungful of smoke, and turned back to face him.

His eyes were closed. From this distance, you could not tell if he was alive or dead. Surely he couldn’t have survived a fall like that?

There was only one way to find out.

You jumped over the edge of the crater, charred earth sizzling beneath the soles of your trainers as you approached the stranger warily. He didn’t move. When you reached him, you kneeled down beside him, determinedly keeping your gaze above the waist as you searched for signs of life. He was covered head to toe in soot, but he seemed, for the most part, unharmed. He didn’t appear to be breathing. You hovered your ear close to his chest and breathed a sigh of relief when you heard a steady heartbeat.

You pulled back. Now you had determined you didn’t have a dead body to deal with (much to your relief; you didn’t much fancy trying to explain _this_ to the police) you debated what to do. You could call the authorities, but again, how were you going to explain that a giant naked man fell out of the sky and crash landed in the forest behind your house?

No, you couldn’t call anyone. They’d only think you were crazy.

That left only one option: you had to get him back to your house. Which was a feat in and of itself. A man of his size must weigh near half a ton.

As you were debating what to do, a movement caught your eye. Thinking that the man might be waking up (which posed a whole lot of other questions and dilemmas over what you should do) you fell back slightly, heart pounding as you waited to see what happened.

But instead of waking up, right before your very eyes, he began to shrink. You blinked. Surely you were imagining things? But after a few seconds, there before you was a man of normal size (and by ‘normal’ you meant still well over six foot), still very much unconscious and naked in the middle of your forest. But at least now you thought you might have a chance of getting him home.

You contemplated how you should best approach the task. There was no way in hell you’d be able to carry him all by yourself. Perhaps you could drag him? Yes, that could work. If you could hook your arms beneath his armpits, you could probably manage the distance back to your house. You paused, considering his current state and cringed. Maybe dragging him over scorched ground and through a forest was not the best of ideas. 

You thought of the tarp you kept stored in the garden shed at the back of the yard. But you weren’t confident you could find your way back to the clearing again without the flames to guide you. Perhaps you could fashion some sort of sled out of branches? 

Well, it was worth a try.

It took you the better part of an hour to gather the materials you needed, and all that time, the man slept on. He remained disturbingly unmoving and you felt the need to check to ensure his heart was beating every so often, but it was always there, slow and steady and completely at odds with the rest of his appearance.

When you had finished your work, you had a sled of questionable durability, but it was the best you could do. Now came the question of how the hell you were supposed to complete the next task. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you looked to the man in the crater below. You had since discarded your jacket and placed it over his waist to preserve his modesty (hey, it was hard to work with _that_ staring right at you).

“Well, nothing to do about it,” you muttered.

Hesitantly, you rolled him onto his side and gasped at what you saw. You had previously thought him to be unharmed, but you had been wrong. His back was caked in drying blood and two long, jagged wounds ran parallel from his shoulder blades almost to his hips. You could see the white edges of bone peeking out from between the ragged edges. You frowned. It almost looked like… wings? You could still see tufts of bloodied feathers clinging to the wounds.

No way.

Nope. You refused to believe it. Clearly there was a logical, sensible reason for all of this, you just couldn’t see it in your dazed and disoriented state. This was a matter to debate in the morning when you’d had a good night’s rest and a cup of coffee. The bleeding seemed to have mostly stopped, so you put the thought out of your mind for the time being and focused on getting him home.

Getting the man onto the sled was perhaps not one of your finest moments (you weren’t quite sure where you should put your hands) but you made it work, and soon you were on your way back to the house. You were exhausted, and you were certain you had missed the start of the meteor shower, but right now you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to take a long shower and go straight to bed—if sleep was even a possibility with a naked stranger in your house. 

You still hadn’t decided what to do about that. You figured you’d let him sleep and when he woke up, he would explain everything and return to his life just as you would return to yours. You prayed he wasn’t some sort of criminal on the run from the authorities. Although you had no idea what kind of criminal would be lying naked at the bottom of a crater in the middle of the woods. Maybe he was some kind of pervert? Were you making a mistake bringing this man into your house?

You shook your head. These were all problems for when he woke up. He couldn’t possibly be a threat to anyone right now.

As you left the cover of the trees, you looked up to the sky. The full moon was at its peak, flooding the yard with cold, white light. The stars winked at you from where they hung amongst the thousands, every so often a faint streak of light passing between them as the Earth hurtled through the cloud of comet rubble on its path around the sun.

Could it even be possible that a man could have fallen from those stars? Every fibre of your being said it shouldn’t be possible. _Couldn’t_ be possible. And yet…

You made up the bed in the spare room on the ground floor for him, ensuring you cleaned him up and bandaged his wounds as best you could before laying him down beneath the crisp white sheets. Now that his face was free of soot and dirt, you could see that he was quite handsome, with sharp features and pale, platinum blonde hair.

By the time you had finished, your hands were shaking violently—from exhaustion or shock, you couldn’t be sure. You took a shower as hot as you could stand it and watched the ash and grime and blood that caked your hands be washed away by the scalding stream of water. The strange man’s blood was red like yours, but something told you he was not what he seemed.

Before you retired for the night, you took your father’s pistol from the locked drawer in his old office and loaded it, placing it on the night stand by your bed. 

You hoped you would never need to use it.


	2. Morning Star

You opened your eyes to the warm spring sunshine of Saturday morning and, for just a moment, you forgot all about the events of the previous night. It was a morning like any other, birds singing in the forest, a light breeze jostling the boughs. But as you lay there, staring at the patterns the sunlight made on the ceiling, you felt the creeping sense that something was not quite _right_ —a feeling that only comes from living alone for so many years. You felt a presence in the house that could not be ignored.

With a groan of protest, you heaved yourself out of bed. A quick glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand told you you’d overslept—not surprising considering the night you’d had. It was starting to come back to you now. Your gaze shifted from the red LED numbers to the handgun perched on the stand, proof that it all hadn’t all been just a dream. In the guest room downstairs, beneath your very feet, was the man you had seen fall from the stars.

You dressed quickly, tucking the pistol into the waistband of your jeans at the small of your back, and stumbled downstairs. Cautiously, you peered into the guest room. The stranger was still sleeping deeply. It seemed as though he hadn’t even moved an inch during the night. If you looked closely, you could see his chest rise and fall ever so slightly in a steady rhythm, but at first glance he could easily have been dead.

As you watched him, you pondered what to do. The man had no clothes, no identification and no distinguishing features. You could call the police, lie about where he came from and hand him over to them. He’d be out of your hair, simple as that, and if he turned out to be dangerous, you’d know you made the right choice. But if he didn’t then you’d be condemning an innocent man to ending up just another John Doe in the hospital. And if he really did come from the stars, a John Doe was all he’d ever be to them.

No. You’d wait for now. If he really was what you suspected him to be, he would probably thank you for not delivering him straight into the hands of doctors and scientists who would only use him to satisfy their own curiosities.

And if he _was_ dangerous? Well… You only hoped a bullet was enough to stop him.

As quietly as you could, you approached the side of the bed. You checked his pulse—still strong and steady—before rolling him carefully onto his side to check his bandages. There were a few spots of blood here and there, but for the most part, they were clean. Frowning, you pulled back part of the dressing and gasped at what you found.

He appeared to have miraculously healed overnight. The new skin was till red and raw, and the resulting scars would not be pretty, but the wounds looked as if they had been there for weeks rather than mere hours. Had you simply imagined all the blood, the bone, the broken feathers? 

You returned him to his previous position and took a long step backwards. He hadn’t stirred once, eyes still shut tight and oblivious to the world. Things were getting stranger by the minute and you were finding it increasingly difficult not to believe you were stuck in some crazy dream you couldn’t wake up from.

You let out a shaky breath and rubbed your eyes. You needed coffee. ASAP.

You found the pot still full from the night before. It had long gone cold, of course, but you weren’t about to waste an entire pot. You poured yourself a mug and nuked it in the microwave for a minute, adding a splash of milk to try and mask the bitterness, but it still brought a grimace to your face.

Bitter coffee and an unconscious stranger in your guest room was not how you imagined kicking off your weekend.

In an effort to bring some sense of normalcy to the morning, you retrieved your laptop from upstairs (the battery was drained from leaving it switched on by your telescope the whole night) and decided to get a head start on grading your latest batch of papers.

You found yourself having difficulty focusing, your mind wandering to the man in the next room.

Surely, he couldn’t be what you thought he was… could he?

Curiosity burning, you opened a new tab in your browser and typed the word ‘angels’ into the search engine. You selected the first result and began to read. Words jumped out at you: ‘benevolent’, ‘guardian spirits’, ‘purity’, ‘selflessness’. It all sounded like idealistic nonsense to you, but maybe... After a moment’s thought, you changed your search slightly and you felt your blood chill as you skimmed the new information.

_’A fallen angel is a wicked or rebellious angel that has been cast out of heaven. The term “fallen angel” …is used of angels who sinned …of angels cast down to the earth in the War in Heaven, of Satan, demons, or of certain Watchers.’_

You glanced up frightfully at the door to the guest room, as if the stranger would suddenly wake and prove all the words you had just read to be true. But, of course, nothing of the sort happened.

No. There had to be a logical explanation. You’d much sooner believe he was extra-terrestrial than some all-powerful celestial being from a book you never took much stock in. For all you knew, he could be just a man and this was just a misunderstanding. Hell, maybe this was all just one big prank. Anything was more likely than an angel crash landing in your garden.

You shook your head, appalled at yourself, and closed the tab. This wasn’t like you. You dealt in fact, in your own senses, in science. It was illogical to come to a conclusion without first gathering all the evidence, and your key witness had yet to take the stand.

But were you prepared for the possibility that everything you knew, everything you believed in was wrong?

That night you slept fitfully, your dreams plagued by the sound of great wings, and the stench of burnt feathers and blood.

The remainder of the weekend passed uneventfully. The man slept through Saturday night and Sunday morning with no signs of stirring. Loathe as you were to leave him alone in case he finally did wake, your fridge and pantry were getting dangerously close to empty. You decided you could risk a trip to the grocery store. Half an hour, tops.

You took one last peek into the guest room to make sure Sleeping Beauty was where you’d left him, before snatching up your keys and rushing out the door. Thanks to the quiet Sunday afternoon roads, you made the round trip in twenty minutes.

When you got home, you set down your shopping bags in the kitchen then, out of habit, went to check on the stranger. You had grown so used to seeing his sleeping form in the last two days that you almost turned around and left the room before your brain registered that this time he was not where he should be.

The bed was empty.

The covers had been thrown back hastily, and the sheets still held the impression of his body where it had lain only minutes before. You touched them. 

_Still warm… He couldn’t have been awake for long._

You had noticed nothing amiss when you’d returned from the store. The front door had been locked, and the back door bolted from the inside, just as you’d left them. The guest room window that opened onto the back yard was still shut tight, and a strong, crisp breeze had been blowing all day so you would have felt it if any other window in the house had been left open.

It all led you to only one conclusion: he was still in the house.

You whirled around, hand hovering by the grip of the handgun concealed at your back, but before you could free it, a body slammed into you, pushing you roughly against the wall. Your head cracked painfully against the drywall and you saw stars for a moment. The breath had been knocked from your lungs but before you could recover it, a large hand enclosed around your throat. Dazed, you looked up into the face of your assailant for the first time.

You gasped as your eyes met his. They were a stunning, clear electric blue—impossible and inhuman. They were eyes that had seen millennia, that spoke of intelligence far beyond your own. They were the most exquisite eyes you had ever seen, but you only had a moment to admire them before the hand around your throat tightened harshly. The man glared down at you, teeth bared in a grimace. 

“Where am I?”

You gasped for breath, fingers clawing uselessly at the iron grip crushing your windpipe. The edges of your vision were already beginning to turn black.

The man snarled and loosened his hold slightly. “Speak!”

“Starfall, Oregon,” you managed to croak out.

“Why am I here? What have you done to me?”

“You fell. I found you.”

“Where?”

“Forest.”

He glanced over his shoulder and out the window to where the dark shadow of the tree line encroached on your back yard. He turned back to you.

“How long ago?”

“Two days.”

He cursed, rage crossing his features for a split second before composing himself.

“Show me.”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, heart beating wildly against your ribs. “Say please.” You felt a small swell of pride at your ability to keep your voice from shaking as you spoke the words.

He seemed taken aback for a moment, then scowled. “Do you know who I am?”

“I have my suspicions.”

“Then you know you’re expendable to me. I can kill you in a heartbeat.”

“So can I.”

He froze at the resounding metallic click and looked down to find the barrel of your .45 pointed straight at his heart. The pressure on your throat lessened and you gulped down a lungful of precious air, but he still had you pinned to the wall.

“So you at least know what this does.”

He eyed the pistol warily. “I’ve seen what they can do,” he snarled. “Humans and their toys, do you really think you can kill me with that?”

“If you’re so confident, why are you afraid of it?”

He hesitated, the vein in his forehead pulsing with each second that ticked by. He growled in frustration and pulled back abruptly, finally releasing you from his grip.

You slumped against the wall, blinking away tears of relief, and glowered up at him. You lifted a hand to your throat to massage the tender flesh, cringing as you felt the bruises already beginning to blossom there. “I thought angels were supposed to protect people.”

He scowled. “We are warriors of the Lord, not babysitters.”

“Guess that got lost in translation somewhere.”

He watched you warily as you caught your breath, those impossible eyes fixed on the gun. You kept it levelled at him, willing your hands to stop trembling. Your father taught you long ago how to shoot at painted targets and old tin cans. It was a whole other story when you were aiming at flesh and bone.

“Take me to where I fell.”

You shot him a glare and he returned it. The two of your stared each other down for a moment before he gave in a rolled his eyes. 

“ _Please,_ ” he finished and you almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

“Why should I help you? You haven’t exactly done anything to deserve it.”

The vein in his forehead throbbed. Maybe it was a bad idea to piss off someone who could probably snap your neck with two fingers. But hey, if he was going to kill you anyway, you might as well go down swinging.

“Because the sooner I get there, the sooner I can leave and I never have to lay eyes on you again.”

“Now you’re speaking my language. Fine. But you need to put on some clothes first.” In all the excitement, it had only just occurred to you that stranger before you was still very much naked. As if the day couldn’t get any worse. “If I never have to lay eyes on _this_ again,” you gestured vaguely to his nether regions, determinedly keeping your eyes above his waist. Still, you couldn’t fight the blush slowly spreading across your cheeks. “I’ll be glad for it.”

For a moment, he looked as if he was about to retort but changed his mind, closing his mouth and choosing instead to fume in silence while you made your way to the dresser across the room. Watching him carefully from the corner of your eye, you rummaged in the drawers and pulled out a pair of pants and a button down shirt that had belonged to an old boyfriend of yours. You tossed them to him and he caught them deftly in one hand, looking down at them in distaste.

“They might be a little small, but they’ll do. Hurry up and get dressed, I’ll wait in the kitchen.”

As soon as you were out of the room, you felt your legs begin to shake. They carried you as far as the dining table before they collapsed from under you and you sat down heavily in the seat. You set the gun down on the table away from your trembling hands. 

You wanted to cry. But you wouldn’t. You refused to show that man any shred of weakness. You’d somehow managed to convince him that killing you was too much trouble and you needed to keep it that way. And when he was finally out of your life and this all seemed like just a passing dream, then you could cry.

_Please, God, let this be over quickly,_ you prayed silently. Then you laughed at the irony of it all. Maybe God was punishing you being a non-believer. This was certainly a rude awakening to his existence.

“Why are you laughing?”

Your head snapped up at the voice. The stranger was watching you from the doorway with contempt, his shoulders stiff as he stood awkwardly in his new clothes. As predicted, the ends of the pants stopped well above his ankles and evidently he didn’t even attempt to button the shirt given how tight it already was around his broad shoulders. But it was far better than staring at his junk all night.

“No reason,” you said all too quickly, jumping to your feet and reaching once more for the pistol. It’s cool weight against your palm seemed to have a calming effect and your trembling subsided. Regaining your former composure, you glared up at the man. “Let’s go. You first.”

You gestured with the barrel to the back door and followed him through it into the orange light of the setting sun.

“Straight ahead,” you said as the two of you reached the edge of the trees. You kept your eyes trained on him, gun at the ready. You had yet to turn off the safety, but he didn’t need to know that.

His feet made no noise on the forest floor as he walked. It only made you more aware of your own footfalls, cringing at every snapped twig and crushed leaf as the noise seemed to be magnified tenfold in the secluded space. It was then that you noticed everything else was silent as well. No birds sang and not even a breeze rustled the tips of the trees, as if they were all holding their breath in the presence of this being. Whether it was out of awe or fear, you couldn’t be sure.

You knew you had reached the clearing when he stopped abruptly in front of you, almost causing you to walk right into him.

“Wait here,” he said and you nodded silently, watching wide-eyed as he approached the crater.

What exactly was he hoping to accomplish? Were they just going to beam him back up into the sky?

A moment later, you heard his voice ring out through the clearing.

“Father!”

Silence.

“Father, why have you forsaken me!”

No reply came. Not that you had been expecting any. What was he waiting for, a disembodied voice from the sky? Like The Lion King?

“You would cast out your own son?”

He stumbled forward, face upturned to the sky. You could see the despair in his gait, in the way his clenched fists fell limp at his sides.

“You would leave him to rot here, amongst the dirt and worms and filth?”

Dead silence. Not even a whisper on the breeze.

At the centre of the crater he fell to his hands and knees, fingers curling in the blackened soil. He raised one hand up to his face and in his grip he held a single, singed feather. He began to shake, the feather crumbling to dust in his fist, and he raised his head and let out an anguished cry to the heavens. You jumped in fright and lifted your gun as a flock of birds shot out of the trees and took to the sky at the sound. He sounded like a madman, a wounded animal in its last throes of life, and in that moment your heart ached for him. 

When his lungs were empty, he fell silent and hung his head. He was still for a long time, but your dared not take your eyes off him and you kept your gun trained on his back.

“You can put that away; I’m not going to hurt you.”

You hesitated at his words. His tone was one of a defeated man, shoulders slumped and head bowed. But your throat still burned with the imprint of his fingers from earlier.

“Not until I get some answers.”

He was silent for a long time. You couldn’t see his face, but you could see the muscles of his jaw work as he clenched his teeth.

“Fine,” he said finally. “But not here.” He got to his feet and turned to you, a look of resentment on his face.

You gestured toward the house with the barrel of the gun. “Then lead the way.”

He scowled, eyeing you with a look that could only be disgust. But he complied. You were the one with the firearm after all. As you followed him back to the house, you couldn’t help but think how absurd it was, holding an angel at gunpoint. 

You were probably going to hell for this.


	3. Heavenly Demon

“Is this really necessary?”

God, you could easily get lost in those impossible blue eyes. Well, you could have if they weren’t currently regarding you with such blatant contempt. Maybe it was because, at present, you had the man those eyes belonged to bound to a chair in your kitchen. 

_Oh, I am definitely going to hell for this…_

“For my peace of mind, yes,” you sighed, checking the ropes for the third time. He flexed his wrists and the knots groaned ominously, but didn’t break. You nodded in satisfaction, silently thanking your father for all the camping trips he had taken you on all those years ago. He’d make you tie the knots over and over until you got them right, testing you every chance he got. 

“ _You never know when a well tied knot will come in handy!_ he’d said. You bet he never had _this_ in mind.

“If I was at full power, you would be paying for this,” the angel hissed.

“Why, what happened to your power?” It was a genuine question, but his face looked as if you had just insulted him, his mother and his cat.

He clenched his jaw shut, the vein in his forehead throbbing formidably.

You drew a deep breath. “Fine, let’s try another question. Who the hell are you?”

He hesitated for a moment, but then his eyes drifted to the handgun on the table and he relented. “My name is Dophiel, also called Jophiel, Iofiel and Zophiel.”

You waited for a moment before realising he wasn’t going to elaborate. Were those names supposed to mean something to you? “Ohhh-kay, Doffy then, _what_ are you?”

He glared at you. “An angel.”

“As in… fluffy wings, halo, the whole shebang?”

“The whole shebang,” he said with a deadpan look and a perfect monotone.

“So, where are your wings now?”

He ground his teeth. “They took them from me,” he hissed.

“‘They’ meaning…?”

“My father and brothers.”

“Why?” It was such a simple question, but you already knew the answer would be far more complicated than you could ever anticipate. 

“Because that’s what they do to angels who rebel against the word of God.”

For some reason, it was that word that did it. ‘God’. A word that had no place in the vocabulary of a woman of science such as yourself. You sat down heavily in a chair opposite him and let out a long, low whistle. This was too much all at once, but your inquisitive mind would not allow you to give up now. You closed your eyes for a moment and focused on your breathing, forcing it back to a slow and even rhythm. It was a trick you often used when you found yourself overwhelmed. 

Your eyes snapped open and immediately you were back to your cool, calm and inquisitive self. “Why did you rebel?” You felt a small swell of pride when your voice didn’t quaver.

“That’s not important. Is this interrogation over?”

You still had a million questions swirling around in your head you wanted to ask him. His answers had only brought more. You held up a hand. “Wait a second, let me try to get my head around this. You disobeyed your father, _God_ , and he took you wings and your powers and kicked you out of Heaven?” you said, counting off the points on your fingers.

He simply nodded.

“I thought ‘God’ was supposed to be forgiving?”

“Maybe when it comes to _humans_ , his favourite children.” His voice was low and bitter. “But we angels were designed to obey. To him, we are soldiers first and children second.”

“That’s harsh.”

“I don’t want your sympathy,” he snapped.

You had almost been moved by his story, but now, your expression hardened. “I wasn’t offering it. If you ask me, I can see why he wanted you gone. You have absolutely no bedside manner.”

Another glare. He sure doled out a lot of those.

“So, are you stuck here?”

“I can’t return to heaven on my own, no. Not without my wings,” he admitted grudgingly. 

“Can you get them back?”

“It depends.”

On what exactly, he didn’t seem to feel obliged to share.

“Then what now? As much as I like you tied up where you can’t hurt anyone, I can’t keep you in here forever. I have _work_ and—” You paused, a sudden thought entering your mind. “Do angels need to eat? Pee? If I do leave you here, you won’t starve to death or anything?”

“I don’t know yet, this is the first time I’ve held a corporeal form for this long,” he growled.

“Wait, you mean up _there_ ,” you gestured vaguely to the ceiling, “you’re, like, a ghost or something?”

“You do not possess the capability to comprehend my true form. Simply gazing upon it would render you blind, deaf and most likely dead.”

You stared at him for a long moment. Surely, he was joking? “Good to know,” you choked. “No ‘gazing upon your true form’, got it. So… if I let you go, what are you going to do?”

“There’s nothing I can do but wait. They will send someone to negotiate eventually. I must be here when they do.”

“You can’t mean…” Your heart sank. “No. No way, you are _not_ staying here!”

“If I had any other choice, I would take it, but I don’t,” he shot back. “I’ll stay in the forest. You can pretend I don’t exist and go about your pitiful life.”

“And you expect me to just return to normal after a real, honest-to-God angel crash landed in my backyard and challenged everything I believe in?”

“I’m being quite generous, really.”

You scoffed. “What, because you decided not to kill me? Well, aren’t you just the perfect picture of benevolence.”

“And I’m sure you’re the perfect example of that human compassion I’ve heard so much about.”

_Oh good. The angel knows how to use sarcasm now. Stop teaching him bad habits, [Name]!_

“Now, are you going to release me?” He said it through his teeth, his patience finally worn thin.

You stared each other down for a few long seconds. You still had so many questions. But perhaps it was for the best that you didn’t delve any further into this world. You were afraid you might lose yourself. Or worse.

You let out a sigh. “Fine. But I don’t want to see you near here again.”

“You have my word.” 

His voice was so cruel. You found it hard to believe this man came from Heaven. Just about the only thing holy about him was his body, which you knew would be sticking around in your thoughts and dreams for a long time yet. 

You gingerly loosened the knots and stepped as far back as you could get as he got to his feet. He glared down at you, his form hulking, towering over you. He could destroy you as easily as child crushes an ant, powers or no. And he wanted you to know that. It was in the wicked glint of his eyes, the cruel curve of his lips. Even the way he rubbed his wrists, red and raw from the ropes, was menacing somehow.

You’d sooner believe he was a demon rather than an angel.

Your fingers hovered over the grip of the pistol on the table, caressing the smooth lacquered walnut. He was probably faster than you. You would probably be dead before your fingers could even close around the grip, let alone pull the trigger. But he didn’t seem to want to take that chance.

With one last glance, he turned on his heel and stormed out the back door, leaving it hanging open in his wake, and you to wonder whether installing a deadbolt would be enough to keep out a demon from Heaven.

It stormed that night—wild and cacophonous and torrential. The thunder shook the very foundations of the house and the lightning cracked so close overhead it sounded like a giant was hammering at your roof. You sat huddled in front of your laptop in your darkened office, feverishly consuming anything you could find on angels and other celestial beings. 

You read of the fall of Lucifer from Heaven, and of the Watchers who rebelled against God to take human women as wives and lovers, and of the children they begat, the Nephilim—the ‘fallen ones’—giants who wandered the Earth thousands of years ago. The Watchers, or _Grigori_ as they were known, were described as ‘soldiers of human appearance, their size being greater than that of great giants’. You thought of when you had first laid eyes on the angel—Dophiel, he had called himself—and he had seemed to shrink before your very eyes. You thought of the size of the crater, the smouldering clearing in the forest. He had to have been a titan to have caused such destruction, such ruin.

You exhaled, a long, low rush of air that had been stagnating in your lungs while you read. Is this what he was? One of these… _Grigori_? Or was he something else entirely?

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you typed ‘Dophiel’ into the search engine. No results. Frowning to yourself, you tried to recall the other names he had listed. You made a small edit and instead searched for ‘Jophiel’. This time, a list of pages pinged into existence and you selected the first link.

‘ _The angel Jophiel (Hebrew: "beauty of God" or "divine beauty") is the archangel of wisdom, understanding, and judgement._ ’

You scoffed. “Yeah, he was _real_ understanding earlier,” you muttered under your breath.

‘ _He is listed as one of the Seven Archangels, and a Great Angel Chief who leads 53 legions of Heaven’s army._ ’ Thunder boomed overhead, but you ignored it, frowning at the screen as you continued to read. ‘ _Jophiel is believed by some to be the angel who cast Adam and Eve out of Paradise—_ ’

Your reading was interrupted by another clap of lightning and a flash of blue sparks as your screen went blank and all the lights in the house fell dark.

You swore.

That last bolt of lightning must have knocked out the electricity, but not before it had fried your laptop in the process.

You swore again.

Scrambling for your phone in the darkness, you switched on the flashlight and examined the power pack. Dead. Useless. You silently thanked God for cloud storage and then laughed at yourself because suddenly the concept of ‘thanking God’ now seemed inexplicably funny to you.

You stumbled through the dark house, suddenly very aware of how loud your own breathing was without the hum of the refrigerator in the background. Slipping out into the garage that adjoined the kitchen, you searched for the breaker panel, the harsh blue light of your phone sliding over the multitude of boxes piled against the walls. The storm was much louder in the acoustic space, rain hammering at the rolling door and the cold wind whistling ominously as it crept its way through the crack beneath the door to nip at your bare ankles. You flicked the circuit breaker switch impatiently but to no success. 

You sighed heavily. You had a long, dark night ahead of you. And no computer to keep you company.

You thought about the fallen angel, deep in the forest in the wind and the rain and the dark, and you felt a stab of sympathy. It was the briefest thing, barely a flicker, but it was there. You shook yourself before you could get caught in the feeling and decided it would be best to simply turn in for the night.

But sleep was a fickle creature, and you were left tossing and turning as the storm raged outside, your thoughts always turning to the angel with the impossible blue eyes. And, finally, just as sleep began to claim you, you could have sworn you heard a voice in the thunder.

You woke the next morning to clear skies and sunshine, and wonderful, glorious working electricity. You happily poured yourself a steaming mug of coffee, and sat by the window, looking out into the garden. The forest appeared significantly more ruffled after the storm, but the dark trees seemed unperturbed, silent and unmoving in the still morning air.

You wondered if the angel was still out there, waiting in the cold shadow of the woods, waiting to go home. Absently, you wondered if he was hungry.

You shook your head. _Pfft, what do you care?_ you asked yourself. _The guy was a jerk. If he gets hungry, he can eat grass._

Nodding resolutely to yourself, you finished your coffee and went to examine the damage to your laptop. With any luck, it was just the battery that was fried, but you couldn’t know for sure until you took it in to the repair shop. You’d drop it off on your way to work and you would just have to access the day’s lesson plans and worksheets from one of the school computers.

You sighed. It would probably take a few days to fix at least. So much for your little research project. Your mind was still reeling from everything you had read the night before and so many questions still burned to be answered. Perhaps you could head into work early and pick up some new reading material.

The school was unnaturally quiet when you arrived, the staff parking lot almost empty of cars and the corridors silent. You knew it was still early, but you had expected a little more bustle and noise considering finals week was fast approaching. You shrugged. Maybe everyone just had a bad case of ‘Mondayitis’ this morning.

You were relieved to see Robin at her usual spot behind the desk in the library. The empty halls and offices were beginning to unnerve you. She looked up from processing returns at the sound of the door swinging open, and frowned slightly as you entered.

“[Name]? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I just thought I’d come in before class today to pick up some new books.”

“There’s no class today.”

“What do you mean? It’s Monday, isn’t it?” Horror dawned on your face. “Oh God.” You kept using that word. “Please tell me I didn’t come into work on a Sunday.”

“No, not at all,” she chuckled, bringing a delicate hand to her face to hide her mouth. “Did you forget it was Spring Break, [Name]?”

You froze. _Well, that would explain why it’s so quiet…_ “…Must have slipped my mind.”

She chuckled again. “Busy weekend?”

“You have no idea.”

“It wouldn’t have something to do with a certain human biology teacher now, would it?”

“What? No!” you sputtered, well aware that a deep red blush was rising in your cheeks.

“You didn’t call him did you.”

You rubbed the back of your head and gave her a sheepish smile. “I may have, uh, forgotten… Nami is going to kill me, isn’t she?”

Robin made a zipping motion over her lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t. But you know she’ll find out eventually.”

You sighed. “I know. I just… Something’s come up. I don’t have time for dating right now.”

“Another meteor shower that needs your attention?”

“You could say that.” You wished she’d stop looking at you like that. Like she could see right through you.

“Right,” she said, a hint of an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “So what did you need? It must be important if you had to come in on a holiday.”

Until then you had momentarily forgotten what you were there for. “Oh. Right. I need as many books on angels as you can give me.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Any special reason?”

“Hey, I have interests besides space, you know.”

“Since when?”

_Since I witnessed a man fall from the sky,_ you wanted to say. But you didn’t much fancy being on the receiving end of Robin’s interrogation tactics. She was crafty in ways you couldn’t even imagine. You’d be blurting out your deepest darkest secrets before you even knew what was happening, and all the while she would simply watch with that infuriating smile on her face.

Thankfully, you were just as skilled at avoiding her tactics as she was at employing them. The benefits of being co-workers for so long, and friends ever longer.

“Since my parents…”

Her face broke in an instant and suddenly she looked ashamed. “Oh, I’m so sorry [Name]. Of course. Lots of people turn to religion after the loss of a loved one.”

You hadn’t, but if it got Robin off your back then, as far as she knew, you were practically devout. 

“Religious texts are in Non-Fiction, top shelf, last row.”

“Thanks, Robin.”

You pulled out a selection of books that looked promising, and threw in an old and worn copy of the Bible for good measure, before taking the pile to the front desk for scanning. Robin raised her eyebrow slightly at the selection you presented her, but chose to say nothing. When she’s finished, she waved goodbye and, though you thought you had dispelled her suspicion over your behaviour, you swear you could feel her eyes on the back of your head until the library doors closed with a click behind you.

You let out a breath, clutching the pile of books tightly to your chest. You’d give anything to be able to just let this all go, to go back to your life, go on dates with Law the cute biology teacher and forget that there was a whole other world just beyond the fabric of your own.

But now the illusion had been shattered, you were finding it hard to pick up the pieces. Now that your eyes had been opened, you only wanted to see more, to know more, to find the logic in it all. And now you had a week to do just that. Free time was the most dangerous thing of all to an inquisitive mind. If you really were serious about this, if you were ready to dive right in you had to be ready for the possibility that there would be no turning back.

Were you ready to take that plunge?


	4. Restless Skies for a Restless Mind

A howl of wind interrupted your reading and you sighed as you snapped the book shut. For the last two days, the skies had been threatening a storm that never seemed to come. The wind raged and the thunderheads growled in the distance but the ground remained dry, the air charged with static and heavy with a humidity that promised rain but refused to follow through.

Your eyes drifted to the window for the hundredth time that day to look out onto the forest, a silvery fog hanging low and heavy over the trees. To say you had been distracted by it lately was an understatement. Without realising it, you would often find yourself staring off into the dark woods, thoughts inevitably drifting to the fallen angel who had turned your life upside down. You wondered what had become of him in the days since he disappeared into the trees.

You couldn’t quite say you felt guilty for not offering him your hospitality, and to say you were worried about him was a gross overstatement, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he was hungry, if he got cold at night. 

If he was lonely.

You wondered if he was still even out there. It had been almost three days now. You recalled the storm the night he had left, the voice in the thunder. Had those been words of forgiveness or a condemnation?

You set the book down beside the others, none of which had come anywhere close to abating your curiosity. If anything, they had spawned more questions than answers, ones you found yourself Googling on your phone in the dead of night when your mind proved too busy to sleep. 

You missed your laptop. 

The computer repair technician had told you it would take at least a week to order in a replacement power supply, so until then it was all papercuts and eye strain—a most inconvenient way to conduct research.

You looked out onto the forest again and an unwelcome thought entered your mind—not for the first time. There were only so many books you could read, so many pages of the search engine you could scour before all that was left were unhelpful titles like _Your Guardian Angel and You_ and _ilovebeingchristian.com_.

But out there, just beyond the tree line… You had your own virtual Pierian Spring practically at your doorstep. A wealth of knowledge straight from the horse’s mouth. But…

_‘A little learning is a dang'rous thing; / Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring…’_

You shuddered, one hand lifting unconsciously to your throat where a fading red hand print still marked the delicate skin.

To throw yourself into that world so recklessly—for there was no other way to do it, it was all or nothing—would consume you, surely. But you could not bear the uncertainty, the ceaseless buzzing in your head that could only be quieted with the answers your sought. You needed to know how it all fit into your world view, and if it didn’t, you wondered whether you had the courage to cast aside everything you knew to accept this new world that had been so rudely thrust upon you.

And lastly, were you prepared to face the possibility that you might not come out of this alive?

You took a breath and exhaled heavily, eyeing the pistol on the table in front of you. Would it be enough to protect you? You caressed the smooth metal. You’d always hated these things, but now you refused to let it out of your sight. It was all you had in the face of this impossible enemy. You tucked it into the waistband of your jeans. 

It would have to be enough.

_Fuck, I must be crazy…_

You stood and gathered up your coat, throwing it over your shoulders as you strode out the back door and across the yard before you could change your mind. You stopped when you reached the edge of the trees, legs trembling ever so slightly. Suddenly there was a whole lot more to be afraid of in the darkness of those trees. If angels were real so were demons and monsters and everything else that went bump in the night.

But your angel was the scariest of them all.

You swallowed hard. Was your curiosity really stronger than your sense of self-preservation? You stepped into the trees. Yes, yes it was. You knew you were most likely crazy and ‘curiosity killed the cat’ and all that nonsense. But you couldn’t stand the thought of living the rest of your life never knowing the truth behind the biggest debate in history: _was God real?_

The woods were in twilight, the weak grey light from the murky sky above doing little to penetrate the forest canopy. The air was so thick and humid it almost felt like you were underwater, the usual creaks and groans and bird calls from the pines muted and distant. Your phone chimed loudly in your hand and you jumped violently. It was Nami. She had been texting you all morning and you had been adamantly ignoring her. You switched the phone to silent and continued on, clutching the device to your chest.

At least if you went missing they could find your body by tracking the cell phone signal.

_That was a morbid thought…_

There was complete silence as you approached the clearing where you had first found the angel, your boots making barely a sound in the fallen leaf litter. You thought that strange and looked down to find a layer of soft, wispy grass carpeting the forest floor, tiny flowers scattered through it like little yellow stars.

Bewildered, you reached the edge of the clearing to find not the destruction in which you had left it, but quite the opposite. Where the ground had previously been scorched bare by the impact, grass and flowers had sprung up from the blackened earth, blanketing the clearing in green and yellow and pink. It grew thicker as you approached the centre of the clearing—the crater—which appeared to be where the growth had originated.

_Destruction breeds creation._

You peered over the rim of the crater—now filled with wildflowers and more of the soft, springy grass—and gasped at what you saw. Dophiel was seated at the very centre, legs crossed with his hands resting lightly on his thighs, his back turned to you. He looked like he hadn’t moved in days, clothes hanging limp and dirtied, and fallen leaves dusting his shoulders and tangled in his hair. Tiny tendrils of rose vine had grown around him, clinging to his toes and legs, but the thorns did not seem to hurt him—they didn’t even seem to be able to penetrate his skin. The vines embraced him almost lovingly, and it was then that the thought entered your mind that maybe this man was more like the angels of scripture than you had originally thought.

No truly evil being could bring about a scene full of life such as this, surely. Maybe you had misread him.

Those thoughts were immediately dashed when he spoke, his voice as cold as you remembered.

“I thought we agreed to never lay eyes on each other again,” he growled, though his words lacked their usual venom. He sounded weary.

“I—” You cut yourself off. You had been about to say you had been worried about him, but the sudden pressing need to not seem weak in front of him overcame you. “I was just checking to make sure you hadn’t died. Didn’t fancy having to explain that to the police.”

“ _Police,_ ” you heard him say softly, as if testing the word on his tongue. Then he addressed you again, louder this time. “I’m fine. You can leave now.”

You shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, reluctant to just leave him there in the middle of the woods. “You sure you’re not hungry? You could use a shower too; I can smell you from here.”

You could hear him gritting his teeth. “I do not need to partake in such mundane rituals.” His words were punctuated by a loud groan and it took a moment for you to realise it was his stomach growling.

“Oh, really?” you replied with a smug smile. “Because it sounds to me like you might need to.”

“You are mistaken.”

“If you’re worried I’m going to think less of you for giving in to human urges, you should know that I can’t possibly think any less of you than I already do.”

He remained silent.

You sighed. “Listen, I know you hate me and, personally, there are a lot of things I’d much rather be doing than babysitting a psychopathic angel, but if you don’t come inside and get something to eat right now, I swear to God I will drag your stubborn ass there myself.”

He turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised in bewilderment.

You shifted awkwardly again, fidgeting under his cold gaze. “I did it once and I’ll do it again.”

“Fine,” he snapped. He clambered to his feet, vines and leaved falling away from him, and staggered, almost falling to his knees. It was only sheer determination that kept him upright, teeth gritted through the pain of the blood rushing back to his muscles. “What’s wrong with my body?”

“You haven’t moved in three days. That’ll take a toll on your muscles, mundane _or_ divine. Combine that with not eating or drinking for three days… If you were human, you’d be dead.”

“Hmph. Humans are so fragile.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re one to talk. Without your wings or your powers, what are you?”

He only glared at you.

“Best get used to being human, Doffy. Looks like Dad’s not going to unground you any time soon.”

The angel growled low in is throat—a warning. You made sure to give him a clear view of the handgun at your hip, a warning of your own that he was in no state to take you on and win. You breathed a discreet sigh of relief when he deflated and, at your gesture, he followed you reluctantly from the woods and back to the house. His bare feet made hardly a sound on the forest floor and you had to periodically glance over your shoulder to be sure he was still following you.

_He’d make a good hunter. That’s what Dad would say._

Once home, you immediately busied yourself in the kitchen, pulling ingredients from the cupboard and the fridge to prepare lunch. You glanced up to find Doffy standing at the threshold, glaring suspiciously inside.

“Do you need and invitation? I thought you were an angel not a vampire.”

He shot a withering glare your way, and lifted his foot to step over onto the tiled floor of the dining space. You stopped him.

“Uh-uh! Wipe your feet first, they’re filthy.”

Another glare, but he did as he was told and wiped his feet off on the doormat. It didn’t make any difference—you knew it wouldn’t, his feet were positively caked in mud—but you found it funny so you said nothing, pursing your lips to stop the laughter from bubbling over.

“Sit,” you said, gesturing to the dining table. 

Doffy didn’t move. “You’re playing a dangerous game ordering around an angel of the Lord.”

You sighed exasperatedly. You had to remind yourself that you had brought this on yourself. “ _Please_ sit. I’ll make you something to eat.”

He sat without further complaint. 

Five minutes later, you set a plate down in front of him. He eyed the sandwich on it suspiciously, gingerly lifting the top piece of bread to observe its contents. You turned away to fetch him a glass of water and when you returned, he was still staring at the food, a look of distaste plain on his face.

“What, you want me to cut the crusts off or something? I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Silence. Your phone buzzed incessantly from the benchtop behind you, but went ignored.

_Not the chatty type, are you?_

“Please tell me you know what eating is? I’m not going to mime it for you.”

“I know how,” he snapped.

“Well then, I’ll leave you to it,” you said airily. “I’m going to find you a towel. Your… _divinity_ is stinking up my house.”

You could feel his glare on the back of your head the whole way down the hall. You smiled to yourself. Maybe you were playing a dangerous game by teasing him, but you found yourself enjoying it all too much. Besides, as long as you had your father’s gun, Doffy was harmless.

_Until he’s not…_

You pushed the unwelcome thoughts aside and continued your search for the spare bath towel.

Upon returning to the dining area, you found Doffy’s seat empty and his plate clean, and your fridge wide open as the angel rummaged through it in search of more food. He pulled out a Tupperware container full of leftovers that had been in there for God know how long and cracked the corner of the lid to smell its contents, lip curling in disgust at what he found.

“If you’re still hungry, you’ll have to wait until dinner.” 

He looked up, startled then angry. Until then, he hadn’t known you were there. This seemed to disconcert him slightly, as if he wasn’t used to being caught off guard, then his expression returned to that perpetual glower. He placed the container back in the fridge and slammed the door shut, snatching the towel from your arms as he brushed past you.

“Second door on the left!” you called after him, and a moment later you heard the bathroom door slam shut. 

You followed after him, listening at the door. You had a suspicion that, despite looking like he knew what he was doing, the angel really had no clue how any of this worked and was just too proud to admit it. It was a wonder he hadn’t choked on his sandwich.

“You have to turn the tap to the left,” you said after a full minute of silence from behind the door.

He didn’t reply, but a second later you heard the tell-tale squeak of the taps and the water begin to bubble forth. You received no expression of gratitude, not even so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. Only silence. You just hoped he didn’t manage to drown himself somehow in the tiny shower tub. That would certainly be a feat.

You sighed and left him alone to find him some clean clothes. Nothing you could find amongst the long forgotten items left by previous boyfriends would come anywhere close to fitting across the angel’s broad shoulders, but anything was better that letting him walk around stark naked. Not that you would _complain_ about it. But it would be incredibly distracting and you couldn’t guarantee that you wouldn’t do something you would later come to regret.

You blushed as you let your thoughts wander to how _that_ would work with an angel. He certainly seemed physically capable of it—he was no Ken doll down there, that’s for sure. And from the stories, if they were to be believed, angels were at least capable of producing offspring with humans.

Slapping your cheeks lightly, you pushed the thoughts aside. It had been far too long since you’d been intimate with anyone, but you were _not_ going to break your dry spell for just any attractive man who fell from the sky. Especially when said guy was a massive jerk.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you from your sinful thoughts and you hurriedly fanned your flaming cheeks. You didn’t get visitors often. The house was just slightly too far out of town for people to make the effort most of the time.

You made your way to the front door, passing the bathroom with shower still running, making sure your tucked the handgun safely into a draw in the entrance hall before reaching for the doorknob. Its presence at your side would be looked upon unfavourably, especially in a small community such as Starfall, where the crime rate was so low people regularly left they’re doors unlocked.

The door sung inward to reveal a very pissed off redhead and you almost closed it again right then and there.

Nami pointed a finger at you accusingly. “[Name] [Last Name], You have a _lot_ of explaining to do!”

“Nami, now is not really a good ti—”

“Don’t,” she growled, “give me that. I have been texting and calling you all morning, what could be so important that you can’t even pick up the phone?”

You struggled to form a coherent answer. Excuses were never your strong suit. “Well, uh…”

She held up one hand. “Save it. Unless you have a certain human biology teacher naked in your bed right now, I won’t accept any other excuse.”

Your face must have betrayed something because her eyes widened and she looked past your shoulder to the living room, cocking her head to the side. “Is that the shower I hear?” Then she looked back to you. “You little minx,” she said with a grin.

“No! That’s not… I have a relative staying over, that’s all.”

Nami raised an eyebrow, pushing past you just as the sounds of the shower fell silent.

“You’re a terrible liar, [Name],” she called over her shoulder as you closed the door behind her. “I know when you’re—oh!”

You didn’t like the sound of that. 

You entered the kitchen to find Nami gawking at a very wet and very naked Dophiel standing in the door to the hall. He stared back, ignoring the small puddle gathering around his feet on the tiled floor. You slapped a hand over your face, trying not to think about the way the droplets of water slid over the planes of his stomach muscles.

“He’s… European,” you offered weakly. “They’re a little more, uh, _casual_ with nudity there.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Nami said absently, biting her lip as she looked him up and down. 

You looked between the two for a long moment then decided there was too much ogling going on. “Okay, thanks for stopping by, Nami. As you can see, I’m a little busy today. Doffy, please go put on a towel.” 

You took Nami by the arm and tugged her away in the direction of the front door. She let you pull her along until Doffy was out of sight, then she turned to you, blocking your hand as you reached to open the front door.

“You expect me to believe that _god_ in there is related to you?” she hissed.

“I wouldn’t say he’s a _god_ ,” you muttered. “And yes, my cousin, actually.”

“Do all your cousins look like that? Because if so, I want an invite to your next family reunion.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“Oh, I am. I mean, if you were hitting _that_ , I wouldn’t even be mad that you never even called Law.” She looked at you pointedly. Your heart sank.

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot. Doffy’s visit was, uh, sudden to say the least.”

“That’s okay,” she chirped and you were caught off guard by the sudden shift in her mood. “Because I called him for you. You,” she pointed her index finger at you, “have a date on Friday.”

“What?! No, Nami, I can’t—” You reached for her, pleading.

“No more excuses! He’s picking you up at seven.” She danced out of your reach and out the door. “Have fun!” And then she was gone.

You shut the door behind her with a resounding click and leaned your forehead against the cool wood. “Damn it, Nami,” you groaned.

Turning around, you jumped violently as you came face to face with Doffy, his bronze pectorals barely an inch from your nose. He smelled like your shampoo, and you had the sneaking suspicion he had slathered it all over his body from the potency of it. He had wrapped a towel around his waist at least, much to your relief.

“Jesus, Doffy, don’t do that.”

He didn’t apologise. “You should not have let her go. She knows of my existence; she should be destroyed.”

“What!?” you cried, panicking. “No! She doesn’t know anything, I promise!”

The angel eyed you suspiciously, but seemed satisfied by what he found because he nodded. “Good. Keep in that way.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s find you some clothes, huh? Can’t have you flashing every visitor I get.”

He said nothing but stepped aside to let you pass. Your skin prickled with his eyes on you and your cheeks burned with the memory of him standing there in the hall, water droplets clinging to every groove of his perfectly chiselled body…

You were beginning to think letting him into your home had been a huge mistake.


	5. The Human Stain

You woke that night to the sound of the television blaring downstairs. Sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes, it took you a moment for your sleep-addled thoughts to catch up and remember you weren’t alone in the house. It had taken you ten years to forget the sound of your father’s footsteps in the halls, of pots banging in the kitchen and the smell of your mother’s pancakes enticing you awake. The sound of late night sitcoms humming in the background while your parents chatted in the living room used to soothe you to sleep, but now the harsh TV audio only unnerved you. Having company again after so long was going to take some getting used to.

Grumbling to yourself, you clambered out of bed and made your way downstairs, stopping at the landing to let your eyes adjust to the flickering blue light.

Doffy was seated on the couch, leaning forward as he watched the screen with elbows resting on his knees and his hands folded neatly under his chin. His face was cold and impassive. He hadn’t noticed you yet, eyes forward and fixed on whatever he was watching. From the sounds of it, he had found a news station.

You sighed, trudging down the remainder of the stairs to announce your arrival. “For the love of God, Doffy, it’s four o’clock in the morning. Go back to sleep.”

He didn’t look up or make any acknowledgement that he had even heard you. You hovered closer. 

“Doffy?”

You almost jumped when he finally spoke.

“I do not understand it,” he said, lip curling in disgust at the images flitting across the screen.

“Care to elaborate?”

He turned to you then, eyes searching for something. “Through all your mistakes, all your faults, you were always Father’s favourite. What does he see in you?”

It took you a moment to realise he wasn’t talking about you specifically. You shrugged. “Humans may not be perfect, but we have our moments.”

He was silent for a long time “My kind were designed to be the perfect beings—beautiful and terrible and, above all, obedient. And instead Father chose a flawed creation to rule over the Earth.” He gestured to the television. “War, crime, greed, pollution—humans have been left to their own devices for far too long. Your world is corrupted by the stain of your existence. You are destroying yourselves and the planet you inhabit.”

“We only do the best we can,” you said quietly. Your eyes turned to the screen, banners scrolling by describing countless atrocities. It had been ten years since you had watched the news. “Trust me, I know better than anyone how awful humans can be. But there is good in this world, you just have to look for it.”

“I have been searching for ten thousand years and I still have yet to find any evidence of that.”

“Then you haven’t been looking in the right places.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned back to the screen. “You were never meant to become what you are. When the first humans walked the Earth, Father never expected them to rebel, to take the fruit from the Forbidden Tree. I was there that day; I stood witness to His fury.”

“You were the one who cast Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, right?”

He nodded. “It was less than they deserved,” he snarled. “But Father always had a soft spot for your kind. His pride and joy—He could not bring himself to destroy you, even when my brothers and I urged Him to do so. Instead, He decided to experiment with your newfound knowledge, and with every test He threw your way, you continued to surprise Him. Then, two thousand years ago, He stepped back entirely, granted you free reign over the Earth. And the wound festered.” He turned to you again, a wild glint in his eyes. “How does it feel to know your God has abandoned you?”

“Until a few days ago, I didn’t even believe He existed, so…”

“But does it not anger you that you are little more than an experiment? That you are just entertainment to Him? He could end world hunger, eliminate disease, stop war in its tracks and yet He refuses to even lift a finger. All because He is so curious to see what you humans will do next. Your fumbling struggle for survival delights and amuses Him.”

You searched his face in the dim light. His eyes were so blue they were almost luminous in the darkness. They reminded you of glaciers—cold and unforgiving. “Why are you telling me all of this?” Then realisation dawned on you. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. You’re jealous.”

“ _What did you say?_ ”

“Humans may be flawed, but we have something you’ve never known: free will. You want that. Or else you wouldn’t be here right now.”

You didn’t even see him rise from the couch before he was in front of you, expression livid. “You do not know of what you speak, little girl,” he hissed. “I would sooner die than become like you.”

You stood your ground, despite the panic alarms sounding in your brain at his proximity. Too late, you realised you had left your pistol upstairs. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” you scoffed. “Daddy’s picking favourites and you’re jealous of baby bro who gets all the praise and attention, always forgiven no matter how many times he screws up. You spent so long trying to be the perfect son—obedient, loyal. And for what? Second place?”

You were cut off when his fist collided with the wall beside your head and you felt loose plaster trickle down onto your shoulder. You dared not break eye contact to examine the damage. You were far more afraid for your own life than you were for your wall. That could have just as easily have been your face. He leaned in close, the tip of his nose barely centimetres from your own and there was nowhere to look but into those blue eyes burning with malice.

“Understand this,” he said, annunciating every word. “You are dirt. I am made in the image of God himself. You are _nothing_ compared to me.”

You looked back at him calmly, though you could feel your heart pounding painfully against your ribs. “And yet here you are,” you said coldly. “Amongst the dirt and the worms and the filth of humanity. Best get comfortable, Doffy. Looks like you might be here a while.”

He glared at you, teeth clenched so tightly you were afraid they might shatter under the force. A vein throbbed in his forehead. You had gone too far. He stepped closer, your back now pressed against the wall and the heat of his body almost flush with your own.

“Do I need to teach you your place?” he hissed.

Your composure slipped and the smallest whimper escaped your throat. Your knees grew weak and hot tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. This was where you died. All because you couldn’t keep your stupid mouth shut. But instead of wrapping those long, deadly fingers around your throat, he grinned wide—wicked, maniacal. Demonic.

“There it is. The fear. Not so brave without your little peashooter, are you?”

_How did he know?_

“Now you understand. You are nothing. You’re not even worth killing.”

And with that he stepped away and disappeared down the hall, slamming the door behind him.

You didn’t breathe for the longest time. Then finally, when the edges of you vision began to swim and fade to black, you took one great shuddering breath and dropped to your knees on the floor, no longer able to hold yourself upright. You cried silently, tears of anger, of relief. You cursed your own stupidity.

And suddenly you wished you had gone on that date with Law the night of the meteor shower. That you had never been there to see the comet fall from the sky, to see the man lying in that crater. A million questions still burned to be answered, but for the first time in your life, you found yourself pushing them away. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to be part of this world anymore.

The sun was beginning to peek over the edge of the horizon when you finally composed yourself enough to return to your bed, but sleep remained elusive. All you could do was lie wide awake as morning broke, staring at the ceiling and clutching your handgun tightly to your chest.

Doffy, despite spilling his guts to you in the early morning hours, was back to his quiet, stoic self once the sun rose and you yourself were more subdued than usual. You found yourself stiffening unconsciously every time he entered the same room and would only relax again once he was gone. He seemed to notice your uneasiness around him—you caught a few hidden smirks in your direction throughout the day, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break again. You continued with your schoolwork as usual, albeit more warily and never without the handgun far from your reach.

As the morning slowly gave way to afternoon and the day grew warmer, you were beginning to feel restless under his smug scrutiny. You needed to get out of the house. _And never come back,_ you thought to yourself. Oh, how easy it would be to just run and leave it all behind. But you were afraid of what the angel might do if he were left to his own devices. You bit your lip. There was clearly no love lost between him and humans. You didn’t need that kind of weight on your conscious should he act on his hatred in your absence.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud ping from your phone and you jumped violently. It was a text from Nami.

_Don’t forget about your date with Law tomorrow night! ;D_

It pinged again as she sent a follow up.

_You owe me BIG TIME btw._

You groaned inwardly. You had forgotten about the date. How were you supposed to enjoy yourself when all you would be able to think about was the overgrown cherub wreaking havoc in your house while you were away? You briefly entertained the thought of asking Nami to babysit but discarded it quickly. You weren’t sure who would be more dangerous in that situation—the homicidal angel or the red-headed force of nature. No, it was best those two were never put in a room together.

You would just have to trust that Doffy would stay put. He was waiting for a messenger after all, he wasn’t stupid enough to leave the only place they knew where to find him. It was either that, or take him along as a third wheel. You snorted as you imagined the look on Law’s face.

But the impending date brought up another worry besides what to do with your errant angel: what the _hell_ were you going to wear?!

Romance had been the absolute last thing on your mind before Law showed up. You estimated it had been a good four years since you last let someone take you out for dinner and you had the sneaking suspicion the contents of your closet was now severely out-dated. Not only in terms of what was considered fashionable these days, but in dress size as well. 

You sighed. There was no way around it. You would have to make a trip into town. _But what about…_ You peered over your book at the angel that was now rooting around in your refrigerator for leftovers. He never _told_ you when he was hungry, oh no, that would mean he would be relying on you to feed him and we couldn’t have _that_. You rolled your eyes. He really was just a seven-foot-tall child with anger issues. No harm in bringing him along with you, surely. He wouldn’t dare start something when his very place in heaven was at stake, right?

“Doffy.”

He didn’t reply. He never did, but you knew he was listening by the way the muscles in his jaw tightened in annoyance.

“I have to go into town to pick up some things. Do you want to come?”

You received no reply, no gesture of acknowledgment. You had gotten used to the silent treatment so it came as no surprise, but it still stung. Shutting your book perhaps a little more harshly than you meant to, you stood up, the chair grating noisily against the tiled floor.

“Fine. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

But just as you were putting the keys in the ignition, the sound of the passenger side door opened, startling you to drop your keys down the side of the seat. You glared up at Doffy, who simply ignored you in favour of opening and shutting the air conditioner vents over and over. 

You rolled your eyes. “Next time, use your words if you want to come with.”

No response. Of course.

Grumbling to yourself, you dug out your keys from under the seat and started the engine. 

“Put your seatbelt on. If we get pulled over by the cops, I can’t guarantee I won’t just hand you over to them to get you out of my hair.” Wouldn’t that be nice.

Once you were sure he was all buckled in (a concept that took some convincing on your part because “how dare you restrain an Angel of the Lord in such a way!”), you backed slowly out of the driveway and you were on your way.

You couldn’t deny you were anxious—hands a little too tight on the wheel, foot a little too heavy on the accelerator. Starfall wasn’t exactly a small town, but it wasn’t very big either, and word travelled _fast_. The last thing you needed right now were rumours spreading about you and your… whatever Doffy was to you. “Cousin from out of town” was bound to satisfy only the truly apathetic.

The drive was silent, Doffy staring blankly out the window and you tapping your fingers mindlessly against the steering wheel, partly in irritation and partly to the almost inaudible beat from the radio you had turned on low just to ease the heaviness between the two of you. You had tried and failed to make light conversation, but after the night before, the angel refused to respond to your prodding, even when you began to lose your patience with him.

“Would it kill you stop pretending I don’t exist for just a _second_!?” you snapped. 

Silence. Apparently, it _would_.

“And here I thought you _loved_ hearing the sound your own voice,” you muttered under your breath. You gave up on the small talk rather quickly after that.

You pulled into the mall carpark and shut off the engine. “Wait here,” you said to Doffy as you gathered your purse and phone. “I won’t be long.” But as you shut the car door behind you, you heard the sound echo from the other side of the car. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Or you could follow me in like a lost puppy, that’s fine too,” you muttered through your teeth.

So with the fallen angel trailing behind you, you went about your shopping trip, trying to ignore the numerous pairs of eyes all turned in your direction. Well, it wasn’t necessarily _you_ they were looking at. And you couldn’t quite blame them—Doffy was quite a sight in his unbuttoned shirt and ill-fitting trousers. The abs and the smouldering gaze probably did nothing to help matters either. You tried not to think about the fact he wasn’t wearing any shoes because none you could find came anywhere close to fitting his monstrous feet.

Ducking into the first clothing store you could find, you breathed a sigh of relief as the prickling on the back of your neck subsided. Doffy lurked over your shoulder, completely oblivious to the scene he had just caused.

“Why are we here?” he hissed.

“Hey, you wanted to come. I have a date tomorrow, I need a new dress.”

The look on his face told you that he knew he had made a mistake by insisting on coming, but was too proud to admit it. This was becoming a theme with him.

“You could have stayed in the car,” you offered.

“And sit quiet and oblivious as you sell me out to my enemies? I think not.”

“I’m not going to—! You know what, sure. Fine. Go sit over there while I try on some dresses.”

Doffy seemed strangely fascinated by the ritual of picking out a dress. His eyes followed you across the floor as you selected a gown, then followed you back again as you entered the dressing room to change. Then lingered on you as you emerged to show off your twirl to the sales assistant.

You could feel his heavy gaze on you, but you refused to meet it. To be looked on with contempt was not what your self-esteem needed right now. What you needed was the gorgeous gown you had just slipped on. You turned this way and that in the mirror behind the curtain, chewing your lip. It was sexy, elegant, it hugged your form in all the right ways. You nodded to yourself and pulled back the curtain, stepping out onto the shop floor.

“Perfect!” cried the assistant, but for some reason it was not her approval you sought.

Finally, you met the piercing blue star from across the room and you stopped. For the first time since you had met him, you saw something more than just disgust in those impossible blue eyes. It was something akin to awe, to admiration, with just a hint of confusion. And then all in an instant it was gone, replaced with the usual contempt and perhaps a touch of anger.

Smiling slightly, you turned back to the shop assistant. “I’ll take it,” you said.

As you left, you practically had to drag Doffy away from a woman who had set her sights on him. She had her claws in him—literally, her perfectly French-manicured nails creasing the fabric of his sleeve—and though he tried to look disinterested, she refused to take no for an answer.

“Did it hurt?” she had asked as she fluttered her impossibly long eyelashes up at him.

“Did what hurt?” he had replied, suspicious.

“When you fell from Heaven, Hon.”

“Considering the fall left me unconscious for two days, I did not have the opportunity to feel pain—”

“Okay, Doffy, time to go!” you interrupted, smiling apologetically at the woman as you pushed him out the door. “He’s European,” you told her, hastily. “His English isn’t perfect.”

“She knew,” he hissed in your ear as the two of you made you way back to the car. “You told me no one would know.”

You laughed. “Oh, no, she was just trying to pick you up.” Doffy only stared at you blankly. “She thought you were hot.” Another blank stare. “She was sexually attracted to you.” That got a reaction. He made a face then fell into deep and silent thought as he tried to grasp the concept.

The drive home was just as quiet as the ride over. You didn’t even bother turning on the radio, but hummed to yourself instead. You weren’t sure what had brought on your good mood—Doffy hadn’t treated you any differently since leaving the store—but for some reason you felt as if you had accomplished something, _proven_ something. What though, you couldn’t say.

And as you pulled into your driveway, suddenly you felt at peace with your situation. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it could be worse. You could be dead.

All those thoughts went straight out the window the second you stepped into your kitchen. A man stood at its centre, his hulking presence almost reaching the high ceiling. He turned to you, his face split in a wide smile, and spoke, though you did not see his lips move once.

“A human, Dophiel? Well, this is certainly a turn of events.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you comment, yes, this is being continued! As I have already included in the tags, this is going to be SLOW TO UPDATE. This is not my only series, and not my only project by far so sometimes those other projects have to take priority. If you want an idea of just how much I have to do right now, here's what the current list looks like: http://vizkopa.deviantart.com/journal/Plans-UPDATED-LIST-577497552
> 
> Please be patient with me! D; I'm writing as much as I can with the time my day job allows me ;n;


	6. Not the Kind of Date You Were Expecting

_“A human, Dophiel? Well, this is certainly a turn of events.”_

You felt Doffy stiffen beside you and, though it was entirely possibly you were imagining it, take a step forward as if to shield you from view. You shook your head. No, you were imagining it.

You peered around the angel to inspect the intruder. He was tall, far taller than Doffy, his shaggy blonde head almost brushing the ceiling of your kitchen. Sharp, copper eyes peered from beneath his bangs and his wide mouth was set in an amused smile. His face reminded you of Doffy’s, but rounder, gentler, and he wore a simple white suit, the jacket thrown lazily around his shoulders, which seemed strangely hunched. You thought you saw something shift under the coat, the faint rustling of feathers reaching your ears, but again, you could have been imagining things.

“Raziel,” Doffy said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

_Raziel?_ Where had you heard that name before…

The man’s voice echoed in your head again, though his mouth remained firmly shut. It gave you the creeps. “ _I apologise for my lateness. You know how Father can be._ ”

Doffy lips tightened. “Why are you here, brother?”

That was when it clicked. _Raziel, an archangel within the teachings of Jewish mysticism, who is the ‘Keeper of Secrets’ and the ‘Angel of Mysteries’…_

“Woah, woah, woah! Wait a second. No.” Both angels turned to you. “One of you was bad enough. I have a date tomorrow; I do not have time to deal with _two_ of you!” You turned to Raziel, pleading. “Can you just… take him home already? He’s very sorry and he won’t do it again. Just get him out of my house.”

Doffy glared at you, and Raziel looked at you apologetically. His voice in your head was kind and sincere, so different from the man standing beside you. 

“ _I’m afraid I can’t do that. If he is to return home, he must first be tried in the Supreme Court of Heaven._ ”

You stared at him, incredulous. You were vaguely aware your mouth was hanging open, but your mind was too busy trying to imagine a fleet of angels all in powdered wigs and robes. You heard him chuckle inside your head and you suddenly realised you did not need to say your thoughts aloud for him to hear them. You blushed beet red and cleared your throat.

“So, uh, what does that entail exactly?”

“ _He will be tried before a judge and jury, as you would be here on Earth, and they will deem him worthy or unworthy of regaining his Grace._ ”

“His Grace?”

“Only those with Grace may enter the Gates of Heaven,” Doffy said, not looking at you as he spoke. “One loses their Grace when their wings are broken. Only God himself can restore it.”

Raziel spoke again. “ _When an angel loses their Grace, they lose their connection to heaven, their power, their immortality. It will all slowly fade away, until they are barely more than human._ ”

Doffy snarled at this. You stared at him curiously. No wonder he was so desperate to go home.

You turned back to Raziel. “So when’s the trial?” The sooner you could get rid of your errant angel, the better.

“ _Consider this your official court summons,_ ” said Raziel. “ _You will both be expected to present your statements seven days from now before the court. A guide will be sent to—_ ”

“Wait, _what_?!” Now you really had to be imagining things. It almost sounded like he’d said…

“ _That’s right,_ ” the voice echoed. “ _It’s not often we call on human witnesses, but you have been requested to testify as a character witness on behalf of Dophiel._ ”

“But, why me?” you sputtered. “Do I even have a choice in the matter?”

“ _Unfortunately, no._ ”

“What if I don’t want her there?” growled Doffy. “She’ll only be a nuisance.”

You glared at him. Who was he to call _you_ a nuisance?! “See, he doesn’t even want me to testify.”

“ _Then I’m afraid, dear brother, your case will be sorely lacking. Your chances of returning to Heaven will be slim without a witness to couch for you._ ”

Doffy’s mouth pressed into a hard, thin line and he said no more.

Inside your head, where Doffy couldn’t hear, you pleaded with Raziel.

“ _In case you haven’t noticed, Doffy and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms. His attitude is… abrasive to say the least. I don’t think I’ll be any help to his case._ ”

His voice echoed back, and from the stony expression on Doffy’s face, you knew you were the only one who could hear it.

“ _You have spent the most time with him as of late. You are the only one equipped to provide an accurate judgement of his character._ ”

“ _But I don’t even know him! He refuses to even acknowledge my existence most of the time._ ”

He sent you a mental image of him shrugging. “ _You are not dead. That, when it comes to my brother, speaks volumes._ ” He left you to ponder his words and turned back to Doffy. “ _I’ll see you in a week, brother. And you, Miss [Name]._ ”

And then, with the sound of rushing wings, he was gone.

You and Doffy stood silently for a long minute. The angel was glaring at the empty space where Raziel had stood, jaw muscles working furiously as he ground his teeth. You were busy pinching yourself, hoping you had somehow just fallen asleep at your desk while reading one of your angel books. No such luck.

When you said you had a date, a date with the Supreme Court of Heaven was not exactly what you’d had in mind.

You sighed heavily and rubbed your temples. “Everything would have been so much easier if you’d just fallen in somebody else’s back yard,” you muttered.

“I didn’t _ask_ to land in yours,” he snapped.

“What, there’s no steering on the train to perdition?” you scoffed.

“There’s no train to perdition, what are you—?”

“I was being sarcastic!” you cried in exasperation. “Maybe if you spent more time learning about humans instead of hating them, you wouldn’t have such a stick up your ass all the time!”

“There is not a stick up my—”

“Don’t,” you cried, holding up a hand, “finish that sentence. _Please._ ”

He scowled at you. “You humans are the strangest creatures,” he said. “I will be glad to finally be rid of you.”

“And I, you,” you hissed.

“You best make yourself useful at the trial then.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ll give you a _glowing_ review if it means getting you out of my hair.”

The two of you glared at each other for a long moment, then huffed and stormed off in opposite directions. Doffy sat down on the couch and turned the TV to a news station, immediately falling silent as he grew absorbed in the report. You stomped upstairs to your room, slamming the door behind you and collapsing face first onto your bed.

Out of all the backyards in all the world, it had to be yours. Out of all the angels in heaven, it had to be him. You were never one to believe in fate, but the circumstances had you wondering what you had done to piss off the universe in such a way.

You sat up in bed, staring at the wall and pondered. Then, for the first time since you were a child, naïve and so full of imagination and hope, you pressed your palms together and prayed. Your parents didn’t raise you religious, but you had once resorted to asking God for a kitten when your parents had refused your begging. It didn’t work, naturally, but maybe now He would be more inclined to listen to your words. After a few moments though, you only felt silly and dropped your hands back onto the sheets. Even if God _was_ listening, with your present company, you were sure He wanted nothing to do with you.

Friday dawned bright and sunny, but your mood when you woke was sour. The remnants of a dream you couldn’t quite remember clung to your subconscious, trying to coax you back to sleep, but you could hear Doffy in the kitchen downstairs and you were loath to leave him unchaperoned in case he put his fist through the microwave because it looked at him funny. He already gave the toaster the death glare every time he passed it because it once startled him (though he refused to admit it) by popping its toast while his back was turned. You’d had to convince him you weren’t secretly plotting to kill him with the kitchen appliances.

You sighed as you heard something smash downstairs and threw the covers back over your head. Next week could not come fast enough. You only hoped you had some sanity left by then.

When you finally got downstairs, you found your favourite mug in pieces on the kitchen floor. When you looked to Doffy for an explanation, he only glared back. It looked like he had been trying to make coffee (you were pretty sure you’d accidentally gotten the angel addicted to it now) but when you went to smell the concoction in the pot, it was so bitterly strong you almost gagged.

Twenty minutes later, the rancid brew had been tipped down the drain and a new pot was now steaming beside you as you sipped from your second favourite mug, the remains of your favourite one laid to rest at the bottom of the trash can. You hadn’t managed to coax an explanation from Doffy as to how it ended up broken, but you had the sneaking suspicion he had been trying to make peace with you. Well, it was the thought that counted. But he’d have to try harder than that if he wanted to get on your good side before the trial.

“I’m going out tonight,” you said suddenly over the kitchen table and he glanced up from his coffee.

“This… date?”

“Mhm. You’ll be here alone, so don’t get into any trouble. I don’t know how long I’ll be, maybe all night if it, uh… _goes well_.”

He scowled at you. “Why would you…?” he began but then he seemed to realise the hidden meaning behind your words and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Lust is a sin,” he said coldly.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t need a lecture from you. You’re hardly one to talk. Isn’t pride also a sin, Dophiel?”

“Hmph,” was all he said before burying his face in his mug again. 

That was the extent of your conversation that day, at least until it was time to get ready for your date.

Law had texted you earlier with a ‘ _Can’t wait to see you, I’ll be there at seven_ ’ that made your stomach flutter with nerves. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on an actual date—at least, not one that didn’t end in a one night stand with you sneaking out in the middle of the night because the mere thought of waking up next to someone petrified you. Even the number of one night stands had dwindled down to nothing in recent years.

So, saying you were nervous was an understatement. But this was the first time in a long time you had let yourself have romantic and—dare you say, sexual—feelings for anyone, and damn it, with everything that had been happening lately, you deserved to have a little fun!

You nodded resolutely to yourself in the wardrobe mirror. You were ready. You had spent a long time debating what to do with your hair and makeup, but in the end, you settled on a minimalist approach to keep the dress to focus of the ensemble. You took a deep breath. It was almost seven. Your phone buzzed in your clutch and you fished it out, rolling your eyes as Nami’s text lit up the screen.

_If I don’t get all the delicious details in the morning, I’m disowning you. Have fun, girl! ;D_

You snorted, dropping your phone back into your clutch and snapping it shut. You took one last glance at yourself in the mirror, tucking away a stray hair that had escaped its pins, before finally deciding it was time to make your way downstairs and wait for Law to arrive.

Doffy was absorbed in the evening news report again and barely noticed you enter the room, but when he finally did, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You smiled nervously, doing an awkward twirl.

“How do I look?”

He inhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing. “Like sin,” he said, the dark tone of his voice sending a shudder through your spine.

You both stared at each other for a few more long moments, a strange tension in the air, when suddenly it was broken by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. You both turned to look at the front door as not long after, the doorbell interrupted the silence. Doffy was on his feet in a second, on high alert, eyes wide and body tense as if ready to fight.

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

“Do not answer that door,” he said, his voice hushed and missing its usual venom. It almost sounded like he was… _afraid_.

“I kind of have to,” you said. “My date’s behind it.” You made to answer the door but he caught you by the wrist, his grip almost bruising. “Hey, what the hell!?”

“Your date is not who you think he is,” he said cryptically.

You tugged your arm out of his grasp. “What, you can read minds now too? Does he have bad intentions? Well, news flash, you’re not my father, I can make my own decisions about who I spend my time with.”

Doffy’s jaw only tightens as he stares at the door, the bell ringing again. This time, he didn’t try to stop you when you walked over to answer it. 

Law greeted you with a smile, standing casually on your porch with his hands in his pockets. He looked like absolute sex on legs with the sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tattoos, and more black lines marked the sliver of tanned chest revealed by his unbuttoned collar. All thoughts of Doffy’s strange reaction were suddenly gone from your mind as he pulled you in to plant a lingering kiss on your cheek.

“Ready to get going?” he asked. He glanced over your shoulder and froze suddenly, his eyes growing wide. You followed his gaze and rolled your eyes at what you found.

“Oh. Sorry, this is my cousin. He’s visiting from Europe.”

Law didn’t relax, standing stiffly as he stared the opposing man down. “I see,” he said, and there was a strange undertone to his voice. “Where in Europe?”

Doffy said nothing, meeting Law’s stare with defiance, hands curling into fists.

“Sweden,” you said quickly when it looked like Doffy wasn’t going to respond. “He’s just here for the week.”

“Nice country,” Law replied, his eyes never leaving the angel.

There were a few more moments of awkward staring, then you cleared your throat, catching Law’s attention. “So, uh… shall we get going them?”

He blinked. “Oh. Yes.”

He offered you his arm and you took it gratefully, letting him lead you out the door. As you pulled the front door closed behind you, you cast one last glance at Doffy, but he was too busy glaring daggers into the back of Law’s head to notice your not-so-subtle reminder to behave while you were gone. You sighed and let the door fall shut behind you, hoping to God that when you came home, you still _had_ a home to return to.

“Sorry about him,” you said. “He’s kind of an ass.” Understatement of the year right there.

Law laughed, seemingly to relax now he wasn’t being scrutinised but a seven-foot Swedish model. “Don’t worry about it,” was all he said, but you could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously.

But he didn’t let the strange encounter ruin the night, with dinner and dancing that had him sweeping you—quite literally—off your feet. When finally, he pulled up in front of your house late that night, the windows dark, you realised it was the most fun you’d had in a long time and… you didn’t want it to end.

“Do you… maybe want to come inside?” you offered, glad for the darkness that concealed your flushed cheeks.

Law chuckled, bringing up a tattooed hand to caress your cheek. “You make a tempting offer, [Name]-ya,” he said, and you shuddered as his thumb ran over your cheekbone. “But I don’t think your cousin likes me very much. I wouldn’t want to incur his wrath.”

Your heart sank as you remembered that you were, indeed, harbouring a rebel angel in your very own home. As much as your hormones were urging you to just jump Law’s bones already, you didn’t much fancy getting it on with the ears of God listening in. Talk about awkward. You sighed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I don’t blame you.”

“Perhaps, next time,” he chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. It was slow and passionate, and seemed to harbour all his hidden wants and desires, and had your body screaming at you to just take him here in the front seat. You pulled away reluctantly and smiled.

“Next time,” you said. “I’ll call you.”

“I look forward to it.”

You climbed out and gave one last shy wave as he pulled out of the driveway, before trudging up the front steps. You pulled out your keys and unlocked the door, only to be met with a shadowy figure in the hallway. You screamed and dropped your keys, only to realise seconds later that it was just Doffy.

“Jesus, Doffy! How many times have I told you not to do that?”

He looked down at you, a look of disgust on his face. “You reek of him,” he said simply, before turning and storming away. You watched him go with utter bewilderment.

Next Thursday could _not_ come fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going on a semi-hiatus for the next month due to being slammed with responsibilities (and the stress that comes with them) so things might be a little quiet on my front for a bit. Thank you in advance for your patience :)


	7. Interlude

You woke the next morning to a quiet house—a luxury that did not come often these days. You showered and, still yawning, made your way downstairs, passing the guest room in the hall. It was empty and the bed was still made from the day before, unslept in.

Doffy wasn’t in the kitchen either, or the living room. The TV was switched off and the coffee machine was unused. You chanced a look at the time on the microwave and then out of the kitchen window towards the forest, where the sun was hanging high in the sky above the trees. It was almost noon. 

You hadn’t heard him leave last night, but it wouldn’t be the first time the errant angel had slipped out to return to the site of the crater and lost track of time. He always came back when he grew hungry, like a cat that had wandered too far from home, though you simultaneously anticipated and dreaded the day he would leave and never come back. A man like that, even stripped of his divine powers as he were, could wreak havoc in an unfamiliar world.

You resolved to go searching for him if he wasn’t back by lunch time and went about setting a fresh pot of coffee to brew. Your phone chimed obnoxiously on the counter, the screen lighting up with Nami’s name and picture (she had practically commandeered your phone when you’d first exchanged numbers to make sure the ID picture was acceptable). You groaned inwardly, noting the several missed calls and messages from her number before sliding your finger across the screen to accept the call.

“Spill,” she said before you could even open your mouth to greet her.

“Nami, I haven’t even had coffee yet, can’t this wait until later?”

“It most certainly can _not_. _Please_ tell me the reason you made me wait all morning is because you were getting a lesson in anatomy from Dr. Heart Stealer himself?”

“No such luck, I’m afraid,” you sighed. “He didn’t stay the night.”

“ _What!?_ ” You had to hold the phone a foot away from your ear as Nami screeched into the receiver. “I went through all the trouble of setting this up for you and you didn’t even get _laid_?”

“Yeah, well, you can blame a certain blond for that.”

“Are you telling me you were cockblocked by your cousin?”

You laughed bitterly. “Something like that. He can be… a little over-protective.” _Well, that was one word for it._ “He and Law didn’t seem to like each other very much.”

Nami hummed. “I can always take him off your hands for a night if you want some time alone with Law.” You could practically _hear_ her suggestive smirk over the phone.

“That is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“I’ll gladly take one for the team.”

“You don’t understand. Doffy is… extremely religious.”

“Are you trying to tell me he’s celibate? Because there’s no way a man with a body like _that_ is—”

“Nami!” She fell silent at the serious tone in your voice. “Just believe me when I say this, okay. He’s a jerk and you should stay away from him. Besides, he’s leaving at the end of the week and trust me, it could not come soon enough.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. He’s off limits,” she huffed.

Just then, the back door slid open and Doffy stepped inside as if he owned the place, offering you little more than an uninterested glance before brushing right past you to pour himself a mug of fresh coffee.

“Speak of the devil,” you muttered. _Or rather, the angel._ “I have to go, I’ll talk to you later, Nami.”

“Alright, fine, I know when I’m not wanted. But if there are any updates on Operation Get [Name] Laid, you’d better call me.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” 

“I admit it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but—”

You sighed. “Fine. Sure. Bye.”

You hung up before she could protest.

“Good morning,” you said to Doffy, your tone clipped.

The angel grunted in reply, burying his nose in his coffee and ignoring you as usual. You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your own coffee, scrolling through the notifications on your phone. After deleting all the missed call notifications and increasingly insistent voice messages and texts from Nami, you were left with two text messages: one from Law saying he’d enjoyed your date and he’d see you on Monday and, thank god because until Law’s text you had forgotten school started again in just two days, a message from the computer repair shop saying your laptop was ready to be picked up.

“ _Finally,_ ” you breathed, setting your mug down in the sink with a loud clink, breaking the silence in the kitchen. “I’m going into town.”

Another grunt. By now you had surmised that usually meant ‘I don’t care what you do, it has nothing to do with me’. Doffy was a man of few words. Or rather, no words most of the time. His silence was simultaneously incredibly frustrating and also strangely appreciated. Even his mute brother talked more than Doffy did.

When it became clear that the angel had no intentions of coming with you this time, you snatched up your keys and left him alone. After last night, he had proven he could, at the very least, be trusted not to burn down the house. But part of you still dreaded, despite the property being so far out of the way, that someone would come knocking and meet an unfortunate end because they rubbed him the wrong way.

At least you could be sure Law wouldn’t come around unannounced. He’d seemed adamant about not coming anywhere near the house and its resident angel. Even when he’d dropped you off, he’d maintained a safe distance from the front door and refused to leave the car. You had been a little too distracted at the time to take much notice (damn, that man knew how to kiss) but now, as you pulled out of your driveway and into the street, you were beginning to realise just how strange his reaction had been. Did he feel threatened by an apparent ‘other’ man in the picture? How could you convince him that definitely was _not_ the case?

You tapped the wheel idly in thought, humming along absently to the song playing on the radio. _”Your date is not who you think he is.”_ What had he meant by that? Whatever the reason, Doffy would be out of the picture soon enough and you could get on with your normal, ordinary life and have hot sex with the man of your dreams without fear of Heaven’s judgement from the very next room.

You found yourself in an unreasonably good mood as you pulled up in front of the computer store, the tune you had been humming following you inside and all the way up to the counter. But after the initial joy of being reunited with your laptop after a week apart, your heart slowly sank as you realised just how much work you had to do to prepare for next week’s lessons.

The technician had managed to salvage most of your files, and you had them all backed up to a cloud service anyway, but everything you had been planning to get through over the last week now had to be condensed into a day and a half. Needless to say, when you returned home twenty minutes later, you were in an even more sour mood than when you had left.

Doffy looked up briefly from the television when you slammed the front door sharply behind you and stormed off to your office, but otherwise made no comment on your return. You thought you heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like “ _humans_ ” before you slammed the door of your office behind you too.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you sank into the chair behind your desk. This whole angel business was beginning to get to you. Or maybe it had gotten to you long ago and you were just now realising how irritable you had been over the last few days. Your date with Law had been a welcome relief and for a few hours, you’d forgotten all about angels and gods and the heavenly courtroom that awaited you less than a week away. What you wouldn’t give to go back to that—to be naïve again, oblivious, but…

There was still so much you wanted— _needed_ —to know.

Your eyes drifted away from the untouched document open on your screen to the pictures adorning the walls of your office. A child with a gap-toothed grin astride a bike while her father stood by; a young girl holding a science fair trophy flanked by two proud parents; a young woman dressed in graduation robes and a mortarboard, her smile tight and strained and eyes full of worry, this time alone. Your eyes blurred with tears as you recalled the night of your graduation. When that photo had been taken, you hadn’t known. The text had said they were simply running late and despite the heavy feeling in your gut, you kept believing that they would be there any minute, that they would push through the crowd to take you up in their arms, apologising profusely even though they knew you would have forgiven them anything. Especially now.

A stray tear slipped down your cheek. Were they up there? Were they looking down on you right now? You swiped the tear away and got to your feet, padding over to the door and cracking it open to peer out into the living room.

Doffy was still seated on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. He didn’t notice you cross the room but his gaze flickered to you in surprise as you sat down silently beside him, drawing your knees up to your chest. You both sat in silence, the television anchor droning on in the silence between you.

“Doffy?”

He grunted. Hey, it was better than the usual silent treatment.

It took you a few moments to gather the words you wanted to say. You were prepared to be disappointed, but you had to know the truth.

“When humans die, they go to Heaven, right?”

His eyes flickered to you again, suspicion in their blue depths. “Not always. But, yes.”

“Where else would they go?”

“Hell. Purgatory. Some are reborn into a new life. Some simply fade into nothingness if their souls are not strong enough.”

“And what determines what happens to them?”

A slight frown marred his features as he answered. “It’s not as simple as whether they were good or bad. There are many factors that determine where the soul goes once the body can no longer sustain it. Every soul is different.”

You fell silent again, watching the images flit across the screen. When you spoke again, your voice was so faint you weren’t sure he could even hear the words.

“Do you think my parents are in Heaven?”

“Who knows.”

“Would I be able to see them again if they were?” You were crying again, unwittingly. Doffy seemed to be becoming increasingly more uncomfortable the longer this interrogation session went on. The appearance of tears made him balk.

“Why all these questions?” he snapped.

You stared at each other for a long moment, then you hung your head. “I’m sorry. I was just… I was thinking. I never believed in any of this, you know? I never thought I’d see them again after… And now suddenly angels are falling out of the sky and God is real and the impossible is suddenly _possible_ and—”

A finger pressed to your lips stopped you in your tracks and your eyes went wide. Doffy was watching you, a slight furrow to his brow as he appeared deep in thought. You gasped softly and as your lips parted, they brushed his finger ever so slightly. His frown deepened and his own lips parted as if in response, but then all too soon, he seemed to realise what he had done because he pulled away, withdrawing his hand as if it had been burned. He averted his gaze and got stiffly to his feet.

“Your mouth moves faster than your mind,” he huffed, and made to turn away. As he did so, you heard him mutter: “I’m sorry, I don’t have the answers you seek.”

And then he was gone and you were left alone on the couch with nothing but the TV for company. You could still feel his touch against your lips, a tingling, electric sensation that left your cheeks burning and your mouth dry.

_What just happened?_

You sat and watched the TV a while longer, not really taking in the news stories that flitted across the screen. Your mind was far, far away from Earth and its wars and disasters. You’re not sure when, but eventually you fell asleep, the incoherent sounds of the TV lulling you into a light doze. When you woke, the room was dark, the television switched off, and a figure sat perched beside you on the couch. You recognised his figure immediately.

“Doffy?” As you shifted, the throw rug from the couch slid down your shoulders and you realised he must have placed it over you while you slept.

“What happened?”

“Hm?” You stifled a yawn.

“Your parents.”

“Oh…” You shifted into a sitting position, pulling the throw rug up to your chin. You fiddled with the tassels as you gathered your thoughts. “They died ten years ago. Drunk driver hit them on their way to my graduation ceremony.”

Doffy only watched you silently.

“I can understand your hatred of humans, you know. The guy who hit them, he just… drove away. Left them there to die on the side of an empty road. For so long I hated the world and everyone in it. I was so consumed by it, I lost sight of the good and only saw the bad in everything.” You stared at the blank television screen. “I realised that hatred was destroying me. So, I stopped watching the news, stopped assuming the worst of every situation and threw myself into work.”

“Ignoring the evil in the world does not make is disappear.”

“I know that. I just… sometimes it’s nice to just pretend, you know? I try to see the good in people, no matter how hard it is to find.” You let yourself be drawn into his icicle blue stare. “Like with you.”

A fleeting look of surprise crossed his face before it was back to its usual stoic façade. “You’re a fool for trying.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “And maybe it’ll be my downfall one of these days. But spending your whole life afraid of the world is no way to live.”

“But what is the point when you live for little more than a second in the eyes of God?”

“We’re not on this Earth for long. It’s for that reason we should make the most of what little time we have here, don’t you think?”

Doffy said nothing in return. Maybe you had finally stumped him. Maybe he was just sick of arguing with you.

“I should go to bed…” you sighed, getting to your feet and letting the throw rug slide off you. You handed it to Doffy as you walked past. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

He said nothing as you left, his eyes downcast in thought as he clutched the rug in his lap. At the foot of the stairs, you stopped and turned around. He looked up when he heard your footsteps grow still.

“I’m going to help you get home,” you said softly. “Not just because I want you gone, but because I really do believe there’s a good person in there somewhere.”

Then you ascended the stairs before you could wait for his reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for disappearing for so long ;n; I actually moved into a new apartment back in June which is great! What was not so great was that we couldn't get internet connected here D; So we were stuck without it for nearly 2 months. But I'm finally back and I'll try to get back to updating regularly again ^^


	8. Centre of the Universe

Sunday passed without much excitement. You spent most of the day in your office catching up on work for your class the next day. You realised you hadn’t set your students any homework over the spring break (of course none of them had questioned it, the little shits) so you were determined to remind them that finals were merely weeks away and now was not the time to be slacking off.

Doffy had already gone out to the forest by the time you woke, leaving a fresh pot of coffee sitting steaming on the bench. You silently thanked God you’d gotten the angel addicted to caffeine because you weren’t sure you’d be able to face the daunting pile of work without it. 

You sipped on it now as you went over your lesson plans for the week, tweaking it as you went. It was nearing mid-afternoon already and your stomach growled in protest of you missing lunch, but you refused to pay it any attention until you at least had the plans finalised. You would break for food, then dive right into exam practice questions. When, finally, you hit save on the finished plans, you took the opportunity to stretch your cramped muscles. Wandering out into the kitchen in search of lunch, you jumped when you found Doffy already in the there, glaring at the toaster. You hadn’t heard him come in.

“Glaring at it won’t make it cook faster,” you yawned as you pushed past him to pour yourself another cup of coffee. 

He simply turned his scowl on you for a moment before resuming his stand off with the appliance. 

“Okay, well if you want something a little more satisfying than toast, I was thinking of ordering takeout. How does Chinese sound?”

He obviously had no idea what you were talking about, but you knew he was too proud to ask. You watched him war with himself for a few seconds before finally making the decision for him.

“How about I just order something for you? If it turns out you don’t like it, you can resume your staring contest with your toast.”

Twenty minutes later you were sitting down to eat, Doffy staring suspiciously at his cardboard takeout box full of Kung Pao chicken. You had watched him struggle with his chopsticks for a full ten minutes before taking pity on him and fetching him a fork.

“School starts tomorrow, so I’m not going to be around as much during the week. You’ll have to fend for yourself.”

Doffy shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”

“If anyone comes to the door, don’t open it. If the phone rings, don’t answer it. Got it?”

He scowled. “Choose your words carefully when you speak to me, human.”

You sighed. “You have a problem with authority, you know that? And this _human_ has a name.”

He chose to ignore your comments, as he so often did. You finished your lunch in silence and left him to his Kung Pao chicken. As you rose to walk past him into the kitchen, a smell caught your attention.

“Okay, Doffy, we talked about this. If you’re going to stay in _my_ house, you need to subscribe to at least the basic rules of hygiene. Go take a shower.”

“I did,” he said defensively.

You believed him. It was no coincidence your various shampoos and body washes had been depleting much faster than usual this past week.

“Then why do you smell anything but angelic?”

It was then you realised the clothes he was wearing were the same as the ones you had given him the day he woke from his coma. He had been wearing them for an entire week and only just now were you noticing the sweat stains and dirt smudges and trapped brambles from the forest.

“Okay, tomorrow after school I am taking you to get some new clothes. You can’t go to your trial looking like a homeless person.”

_Well, technically he_ is _homeless, [Name],_ you thought.

Doffy shrugged. Of course he would be indifferent. If it were up to him, he’d happily wander around with nary a thread to preserve his modesty.

“ _Angels_ ,” you cursed under your breath before shutting yourself back in your office to finish your work.

Monday came and went. You dropped the finals bomb on your students, much to their dismay. You ate lunch with Law, something you were hoping would become a tradition. You skilfully avoided being bombarded with questions from Nami who may or may not have spotted you and Law canoodling in the teacher’s lounge before parting ways for class. And before you knew it, you were home, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for Doffy to return from the forest.

It made sense that an immortal being would have very little sense of urgency. But that didn’t mean it didn’t annoy the hell out of you (pun intended).

“Remind me to also buy you a watch,” you commented when, finally, he entered through the back door. “What do you even do out there?”

“I listen.”

You waited for him to elaborate. You weren’t sure why you ever expected him to, because of course he never did. 

“Listen to what?”

He pointed at the ceiling. “I am cut off from Heaven. I can’t hear the thoughts of my brothers and sisters anymore. But the quiet helps me focus and sometimes I catch snippets.”

“What do they say?”

“Nothing good,” he said vaguely. “Let’s get this over with.”

The car ride was silent. Doffy fiddled with the car radio, flicking through stations so fast you barely had time to catch more than a few words of each song. You wondered if this was what it was like for him when he listened in the forest—like tuning an old radio on a weak signal. You were brimming with questions about this ‘angel radio’ but you tamped them down, deciding it was not a good idea to piss him off before taking him into a heavily populated area. 

You rolled up to the department store and shut off the ignition.

“Behave yourself. Don’t talk to anyone and if anyone talks to you, pretend you don’t speak English or something.”

He scowled. “What have I told you about ordering me around?”

“Get used to it, buddy. When you’re in my world, you have to abide by my rules.”

His scowl deepened but he argued no further, following you out of the car and into the store. You passed racks upon racks of clothing—20% off, 50% off, denim and flannel and leather, but none of them seemed quite right. You passed by a feather coat and Doffy paused, automatically extending a hand to caress the peach plumage. 

The look on his face broke your heart.

You had seen the scars many times by now—the only remaining evidence left of his wings. You couldn’t imagine the pain it must have caused him, to have a part of yourself literally torn away. No one should have to relive that.

You attempted to lighten the mood.

“If you wore that I’d have to start calling you Doflamingo.”

He frowned and withdrew his hand, brushing past you on his way to the men’s section. You struggled to catch up to his long strides.

“Admit it, it was kind of funny,” you said.

Apparently, angels didn’t have a sense of humour.

You perused the racks, pulling out articles and comparing sizes. You shoved a pile of clothes into his arms. “Go try these on.” You turned back to the rack to keep looking, but when you felt the lingering presence of the angel, you glanced over your shoulder again.

Doffy had garnered quite a lot of attention from your fellow shoppers as he began to strip right then and there in the middle of the shop floor. Some women openly ogled his body, while others covered their children’s eyes, outrage clear on their faces.

“I didn’t mean here!” you shrieked, cheeks flaming. “Use the changing rooms!” 

You turned him around and steered him in the direction of the booths, apologising to customers and staff along the way. The “ _he’s foreign_ ” excuse was applied liberally and, thankfully, seemed to be accepted by most everyone. You breathed a sigh of relief as you pushed Doffy into a changing booth and tugged the curtain closed behind him.

After almost five minutes of silence behind the curtain, you began to grow impatient.

“Did you fall asleep in there?”

The curtain opened suddenly, and you almost tripped over your own feet trying to back away as the angel emerged. The black shirt you had given him was perhaps still too short in the sleeves, but he had remedied it by rolling them up to his forearms. The fabric stretched taught across his powerful chest, accentuating his muscles and broad shoulders. It took all of your willpower to tear your eyes from his chest up to his face.

You cleared your throat. “Still maybe a bit too small but looks good. It’s missing something though…”

You searched the store for the item you needed and brought it back to Doffy, holding it up to his shirt to make sure the colours matched. It was a satin tie in a deep, rich red.

“Try this.”

Doffy only looked at you.

“You don’t know how to tie a tie do you?”

Silence.

You sighed. “Lean down for me.”

He did as you asked, and you reached out to drape the tie around his neck. The motion brought your face close to his and you found yourself blushing at the proximity. You avoided his gaze, though you could feel its heavy weight on you, and you focused on tying the knot and straightening the tails. After what felt like an eternity, you smoothed the tie down over his chest and stepped away, finally able to breath normally now you didn’t have a creature literally crafted by _God_ all up in your face.

Doffy looked down at his new attire, his look completed by a pair of burgundy dress pants and matching suit jacket, and shiny black dress shoes.

“It’s tight,” was all he had to say.

“Yeah, well suits aren’t exactly made to be comfortable. You do look rather dashing though.”

He considered your comment. “It is still missing something.”

You watched, perplexed, as he strode back across the shop floor and plucked the pink feather jacket from the mannequin at had adorned. He returned to you and, facing himself in the dressing room mirror, draped the coat around his shoulders. To your surprise, it somehow seemed… _right_.

“You know what?” you said, peering around his frame to look his reflection up and down. “I don’t hate it. _Doflamingo_.” 

It was a miracle you left the store alive after that comment, but Doffy allowed you to select a few more casual outfits for him before paying and returning home. You couldn’t help but smile a little to yourself when he insisted on holding the feather coat in his lap on the ride home. He stroked it absentmindedly as he stared up into the darkening sky and you hummed a wordless song into the silence.

It was moments like these when you saw him for who he truly was. He may have existed for millennia, but here on Earth he was just a child, caught far from home and longing for the arms of a parent. 

In that moment, you understood him at last.

When you arrived home, you were struck by the sudden, overwhelming urge to stargaze. You left Doffy to fawn over his new coat and climbed the stairs all the way to the attic where your telescope already stood pointed to the stars. 

You hadn’t looked at the heavens since, well, since you found out that _Heaven_ actually existed. You had spent so long looking up and knowing there was a logical explanation for everything right before your eyes, that when Doffy quite literally fell into your life, it suddenly felt as if none of it was important anymore. The existence of God undermined everything you had learned, had invalidated years of your life spent studying to get where you were now.

Belief in science and belief in God couldn’t coexist… could they? 

“What are you doing?”

Without looking up from the telescope lens you replied: “observing celestial bodies.”

“But you have one right here.”

You simultaneously blushed and mentally face-palmed. “I have, involuntarily might I add, observed your body more times than I would have liked already, thank you very much.” 

You turned to him, relieved to see he was dressed in his new clothes, though he still refused to button his shirt fully. Your face softened when you saw the coat draped about his shoulder. “It looks good on you,” you said. “I wish I could have seen your wings.”

Doffy stiffened at the mention of his lost wings. “You are not worthy of seeing my full glory.”

You rolled your eyes. “Come here.” You gestured to the telescope. “What do you see?”

He took his place beside you and, after casting a cursory glance in your directly, carefully leaned down to look through the eyepiece. After a long silence, he spoke. “Darkness.”

“I’ve spent my whole life looking into that darkness and never did I ever consider the possibly that someone could be looking back at me. The universe is endless, and we are just a tiny pinprick in that unfathomable darkness. It’s easy to imagine that we are all alone here, at the centre of it all. You can’t imagine how hard it is to believe in God when you’re faced with such a concept.”

Doffy had looked up from the telescope to watch you silently.

“Now I don’t know what to believe. When you have undeniable proof against what you have grown up knowing to be truth… I guess I’m just struggling to find my place in it all. I’m like a tree that’s been uprooted and transplanted somewhere completely alien.”

“Are there not scientists that believe in God?”

“I’m sure there are, but… I guess I just don’t know how two different believes could coincide within one person.”

“The human comprehension is truly limited then.”

You laughed. “Maybe so…”

You returned to your stargazing, and Doffy took a seat in the armchair beside the window to watch. You exchanged no more words, just sat in comfortable silence.

When you finally decided to retire for the night, you turned to find Doffy asleep, his feather coat wrapped snugly around him. You knew it was a rarity for the angel to find sleep as peaceful as this since the night he fell, so you left him where he sat, closing the attic door as gently as you could behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do not ask for updates in comments. I am studying full time and working part time so pestering me for more is just a surefire way to make me lose any and all motivation to work on my fics when I find the time.


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